


The Hand that Rocks the Cradle

by YaminoTenshi202



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agender Angels and Demons, Angel Family, Asexual Relationship, Breastfeeding, Camael (Angel) - Freeform, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley is Colour-blind, Crowley's Pronouns change a lot, F/F, F/M, Haziel (Angel), M/M, Maybe I'll put a bibliography at the end - who wants it?, Nanny Crowley gives me life, Original Characters - Freeform, Other, Pahaliah (Angel), Protective Crowley, Research, Samael (Angel), Spiritual Birth, Until they make an effort, deuteranopia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: Blessed are Mothers. They raise their Children with their hearts bare. They may be by blood or by water or even by fire or air; still, they are Mothers. They may be Man or Serpent or Bird; still, they are Mothers.Blessed are those that fall for Mothers. They see power, grace, strength, and poise; still, they are soft and overflowing of love.-When Crowley said that he would be the Nanny, that he would be prepared to handle whatever he needed to so that they could thwart the plan of Armageddon, he didn't expect to handle breastfeeding on top of that.She's not... averse to it, something that surprised the gardener.





	1. In The Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Why have Crowley breastfeed?" *shrug* I like parental bonding, and I have autogynephilia/autoandrophilia.

BLESSINGS on the hand of women!   
Angels guard its strength and grace.   
In the palace, cottage, hovel,   
Oh, no matter where the place;   
Would that never storms assailed it,   
Rainbows ever gently curled,   
For the hand that rocks the cradle   
Is the hand that rules the world.

\- Stanza 1 - William Ross Wallace (1819-1881)

* * *

With darkened spectacles, Nanny Ashtoreth had come in, fully prepared and ready to start her tasks, not too long after Warlock Dowling had been born. The American Cultural Attaché's wife Harriet Dowling found herself quite impressed. As she saw Nanny Ashtoreth coddle and make slight faces at Warlock, she felt an ache in her chest. It was a physical one, one that she had gotten used to during her pregnancy and even after. When Warlock wailed a bit in Nanny Ashtoreth's arms, Harriet felt the pain increase. Even though she knew why it happened, Harriet found herself sitting down in her white-washed rocking chair, watching as Nanny Ashtoreth managed to calm little Warlock down.

A small wetness came to her leg, just at her shin. Harriet turned and saw Rover, Nanny's dog, looking up at her with such dark eyes - they almost looked red! Rover growled curtly before licking at Harriet's leg. If she had known anything about the supernatural, she'd know that the small Hell-hound had decided that Harriet could live another day. She put out a hand. Rover smelt her palm, licked once - no, not that tasty, Rover decided1 \- and walked to Nanny Ashtoreth, sitting at her feet.

"He's such a wee thing. Aren't you?" Harriet smiled as Nanny Ashtoreth jostled Warlock slightly in her arms, the baby boy warbling out nonsense sounds at the woman.

With that, Harriet had chosen the nanny for her son; however, something came up at the back of her mind.

"I have one question for you." Harriet sighed, muttering noises before continuing, "Oh, you don't have to have this requirement, but it would help."

"Yes, Mrs Dowling? I'm sure it would be no trouble at all," Nanny Ashtoreth assured.

Harriet looked down at her toes. She didn't see the nanny's cunning smile, her snake-like tongue ghosting over her lips in absolute delight at the human's attempt at hiding a guilty thought from them.

"... Are you able to nurse Warlock?"

Rover looked up at Nanny Ashtoreth, tail no longer wagging.

"To nurse, Mrs. Dowling? You mean... feed the child?" If Harriet Dowling had known Nanny Ashtoreth better, she would know that the nanny was trying very hard not to decimate everything in the room in a light that would probably be explained away with a terrorist bombing.

"I know I should be the one to do it! I'm his mother," Harriet said. She covered his face with her palms, shoulders shuddering with a sick disgust of herself. "Every time I try, he just can't latch on right. I can't-"

Nanny Ashtoreth tutted at her new employer, coming close and holding Warlock out to her. Harriet brought her son close, kissing his soft cheek. Nanny Ashtoreth leaned down and pressed her hand to Harriet's cheek.2

"My dear Mrs Dowling, when I meant that I was ready for anything you needed, I meant it."

At that, little Warlock began to wail again in his mother's arms. Harriet tried to comfort her baby, but when he turned towards her chest, she felt a terror sweep through her bones. She must have shown it, for Nanny Ashtoreth reached down for Warlock. She sweetly praised and encouraged Harriet in her motherhood, and so Harriet Dowling handed her son to his new nanny.

"Don't you worry, Mrs Dowling. You go rest, and I'll make sure that the babe is fed well." Nanny Ashtoreth pressed a kiss to Harriet's head and gave her a hand to stand from the rocking chair. Warlock gave out cries, demanding to be fed.

Harriet nodded, her heart breaking at seeing her son cry. With that, she told the nanny of her quarters - "You'll be in the room connected to the nursery, right next door. I'll take your bag there while you're here with him." - and left the room.

As Harriet walked down the hallway, Nanny Ashtoreth closed the door behind her, Rover sitting at the door.

* * *

"... You just had to need a nanny. Of course. It's my damn piece in the plan." Crowley held back the urge to slap herself as Warlock looked up at her with tears in his little blue eyes.

"No, this is your fault."

The baby whined.

"No, I suppose you can't help being so small. You're human, so you can't even help being so tiny and helpless." Crowley sighed, unwrapping Warlock enough to get the baby out of the blankets. She took a seat in the rocking chair where Mrs Dowling had sat and held the boy in her lap.

Rover sat at the door, watching for any Intruders. The Hell-hound would keep everyone away with its menacing aura, even other demons. This would help out a lot, Crowley realised.

"Aw, damn..." The demon hissed as she carefully unbuttoned her jacket and blouse. The ridiculous undergarment that held her breasts had gotten tighter at Warlock's crying3. After all, all of Hell would one day serve under the Prince of Darkness, the Anti-Christ, and so every demon would change to suit his need and want. This didn't mean that Crowley had to like slipping out his breast and cooing to the baby, coaxing Warlock to drink.

"Come on, you," Crowley warned, rubbing the babe's cheek with her now swollen and aching nipple. Warlock finally got the hint and opened his mouth. With serpentine precision, Crowley slipped her areola into Warlock's mouth, shuddering as the first greedy suckle pulled out the first of a mother's milk.

Satisfied with the taste, and greedy as all babies are, Warlock began to suckle and drink his fill. Crowley closed her eyes, trying to ignore the energy that her body was shifting to fill her breasts with warm, full milk. It felt...

Crowley tried to ignore the memories. From before the Fall, her memories were crisp and unchanging, like the leaves in autumn. However, much like leaves, her memories were fragile. They almost disappeared with the magnitude of the change in their owner, because Crowley was no longer an Angel, and certainly not an Archangel.

Warlock shifted his mouth slightly, losing hold. Crowley reached down. Naturally, she helped the baby find her hold again, and milk made its way into Warlock's chubby belly.

Crowley opened her eyes, looking down at Warlock. She looked so soft, pure, and nothing of what the Anti-Christ in that dreadful film looked like. No, the Devil himself wouldn't be so stupid as to make it that theatrical.

No, Warlock rather looked like the Angels that followed Crowley into existence. There were seven of them, originally - Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, Jegudiel, Lucifer, and... herself.

"Are you still hungry?" If Crowley's voice grew quiet and warm towards Warlock, she wouldn't confess it. Rover walked over to its master, looking up with curious eyes. Crowley stared back, intimidating her lesser into going back to its duties at the door.

Warlock continued to suckle without reward. Crowley reached down, using her finger to press between her breast and Warlock's eager lips. The suction broke, making Warlock whimper.

"Shh, little Warlock. Don't worry, I have more for you, little one. Shh..." Crowley turned the baby, and soon Warlock was suckling, drinking the sweet milk that Crowley so willingly gave. Crowley soon found herself humming some long forgotten song, something she'd learnt in the thirteenth century but didn't pay mind to remember the words to. The whole feeding of Warlock was a rather quiet affair, but it was something that Crowley found herself becoming more and more nostalgic.

She began to hum another tune, something that existed before Time had started. It had been sung by one of the elder Seven, not her. It must have come from Michael, before she had become so duty-bound and hardly smiled. It had warmed all of them while She - that powerful, unspeakable, mighty Power - continued feed them her Creation, while they grew into what She had wanted them to be. Perhaps this is what Warlock felt as he drank Crowley's milk, eagerly, instinctually looking for nourishment from the only one in the Dowling residence that seemed capable of doing it.

Harriet Dowling was weighed down by a sadness deeper than Crowley could currently assess. What would do well for this child of Satan, the Anti-Christ in his arms, would be for his mother to be calmed, comforted, and to be aided. Warlock would stay with Crowley - Nanny Ashtoreth - until his mother could handle being a mother, until Warlock was up to being mothered by someone... human.

Perhaps this is what Crowley told herself as Warlock finally let go of her breast. She moved the baby upwards so that Warlock lay on his chest. The baby was burped, the little Creature cradled in the arms of his new nanny much more tenderly than a true Evil would dare. As the boy played with his caretaker's hair, red against pale-gold skin, Crowley would deny that she brought the baby - Creature of Her, little evidence of the love and care that She put into all things, and what Lucifer had learnt from Her - to her mouth and pressed a kiss to Warlock's forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of an innocent that had no sin yet asides from being born.

Something inside of her, from after the Fall, told him that Crowley shouldn't do it, not when it wasn't necessary to her Dark Lord's upbringing.

Another part, from before the Fall, told her that Crowley should take his time, for these were the last eleven years that she had to enjoy something so sweet.

* * *

For a while, the Seven Archangels - Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Sandalphon, Jegudiel, and the-Angel-who-would-be-Crowley4 \- all sat in Creation's glory. It must have been the second day, for Night and Day had already come into being. Mother had spoken when they were each Created, and so who-would-be-Crowley had known his purpose from his conception.

Lucifer, the most beautiful and oldest of them, was guardian of the first Light that God had created. Michael aided in keeping the flame stoked and fed, making it burn hottest during its half-life in the newly born Day. Uriel helped to spread that light everywhere. Jegudiel had the task of watching over the responsibilities of her siblings, and Gabriel made sure that the messages of Metatron were put into an understanding that his siblings could comprehend by the end of Lucifer's journey. Sandalphon was the one who brought the messages themselves. That left Raphael a task in greeting Lucifer as the eldest Angel would bring the Sun from the direction that he was guarding as Mother began to work on another Creation.

He remembered looking into the darkness of the Night, and he had wondered what could exist there. It was all black, and it was lonely without his siblings. After greeting Lucifer, who-would-be-Crowley was left alone for a long time. The Night and its child Dawn were his only companions as Sandalphon and Jegudiel rarely visited. Michael would smile at him as she and Lucifer made the Sun rise, but she would speak no more.

It gave who-would-be-Crowley a long time to think. There was still Creation tucked into the feathers of his wings, a gift that each Angel had from Mother. They had not been given another Task just yet, but he found himself eager to use it. What would decorate the Night? Could it be made more beautiful than its darkness that seemed to go into oblivion?

He heard the most familiar and unknown voice calling to him.

**STARS.**

From Mother came a word and with it, the very understanding of what a star was, how it would function, and how it would look in the inky darkness of Night. All of his siblings had gotten such a message.

Soon, they went about their time in the Creation that Mother had left for them. Lucifer and Michael helped to create a sky. Uriel created a new Light called Moon. Gabriel himself helped to pull the Seas into existence. Sandalphon began his task on the fifth and sixth days, Gabriel helping him with guiding the animals on Mother's Earth to their homes and to their partners with whom they would create more generations of big and small creatures.

Who-would-be-Crowley had gotten the wonderful task of creating stars. He made ones that were dim, bright, and of many different colours. When Lucifer, Michael, and Uriel had finally placed Sister Sun in the sky for the Day to take its rightful place on Earth, the other siblings had been waiting with eager stances.

"What did Mother have you make?" asked Gabriel. He turned to Jegudiel, who was working carefully with the Light and Creation that Mother had given to her. Jegudiel only nodded.

"I'm sure it will be lovely, like everything that Mother has let us Create," assured Michael. She looked upon who-would-be-Crowley with a satisfied smile, ready to appreciate her brother's good work.

The first to speak when they looked up at the stars from their place in Mother's Garden was Lucifer himself.

"And to think, I never got to see that beautiful black during my task," he shuddered out, embracing the Star-Angel close, "and you made it sparkle."

Jegudiel, however, had gotten a different message. From Megatron's mouth, Jegudiel had been tasked with celestial light-hearts themselves. The small lights, almost like what who-would-be-Crowley and his siblings had though not as powerful, began to change. Soon, Jegudiel came to their siblings, tired but beaming from their efforts. At the end of the sixth day, when Sister Sun's glow was still present with the newly-born stars beginning to twinkle, Jegudiel revealed the fruits of her good labour.

"We are Angels made in God's grace. These will be our lessers, who we will raise under us to serve the Divine Might of God."

They were small, but they were manageable. They were little beings of light and purity that who-would-be-Crowley had loved from the moment of setting eyes on the younger Angels. One, of course, stood out.

"Oh, that little one!" Jegudiel came close and they played with the small Angel's curls. The little Angel smiled brightly. "This one is Haniel."

Haniel stuck close to Jegudiel, eyes bright with colors that one could see sometimes in the stars. The Angel that would become Crowley could remember those newly-dried feathers, almost silver in the Moon-light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Rover, before his commander Crowley had turned him into a small guard dog, had often been fond of devouring the joyous, those that took so much pleasure in their sin that their joy became a boon for Rover's tongue. Harriet seemed too sad for that.
> 
> 2 At this moment, Nanny Ashtoreth seemed like a mother that Harriet had never had. From her small town in Maine, Harriet had grown up an only child to a single father. He had gotten her to a boarding school as quickly as he could. It had been at that co-ed boarding school where she had met a boy three years older than her. She had married Thaddeus Dowling, Jr on her nineteenth birthday. Sometimes, she wondered if her father had supported her down the wrong path. Maybe her father just wanted his daughter out of the house.
> 
> 3 Brassieres had never been a big deal for Crowley to manage. The real problem for her was that it was always hard to find one that looked nice enough but actually fit her well.
> 
> 4 Who-would-be-Crowley had been the youngest Archangel for a time before time. It showed sometimes, even now.


	2. In the Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, I have completed my 25th rotation around the Sun (July 19). Huzzah!

It was after Warlock's nap that Harriet began to look for the nanny and her baby. She was trying to make the best of their new home while her husband was still in the United States with the President. They gotten the servants organised, the nanny for her baby, and now-

"Nanny Ashtoreth!" Harriet spotted the nanny in the sitting room, holding Warlock in her arms and reading a story to the baby. She'd later see that it was something in Spanish; all babies can learn many languages, and Nanny had no problem with telling the stories of dictators and violent regimes5.

"Yes, Mrs Dowling?"

"I've hired a new gardener!" Harriet seemed to believe that this was an accomplishment for herself, so Nanny congratulated her employer. Rover came and licked Harriet's hand when she reached out to him.

"Is the gardener a professional, or-"

"Oh, he's had a few jobs before, and he's come into gardening not too long ago. You should have seen what he did - he took some time with the peonies that I had planted and they're so healthy now!" Harriet came close and pressed a kiss to Warlock's forehead. The baby boy gurgled at his mother, grabbing a bit of her hair before releasing it. Nanny Ashtoreth lifted the boy up some more, letting her charge play with the pendant of alexandrite6 that she wore.

"That sounds lovely, Mrs Dowling. Shall we take Warlock to meet him?" Nanny followed, cooing to Warlock and talking to him in another language. Harriet always wanted to teach her children more than one language; Nanny Ashtoreth was truly a blessing for Harriet, and Warlock, of course.

Soon, they arrived at the garden. Rover trotted ahead of them. Harriet was just about to talk to Nanny about something before a loud barking alerted them.

"Oh! you didn' tell me tha' there was a dog 'ere, ma'am!" A deeply accented voice greeted the lady of the house, the nanny and the baby. From a bench, a man stood and greeted them. His warm expression was welcoming, just as Nanny had been once Harriet had become more acquainted with her.

"Hello," Nanny greeted, her face stern but eyes hidden.

"'ello, there. You mus' be the nanny tha' Mrs Dowlin was talkin' about." The man in white, the gardener, reached out with a surprisingly clean hand to the nanny, who put out her hand politely. "My name is Bro'her Francis Fell. An' you are, miss?"

"Tovia Ashtoreth." Nanny took her hand back. She adjusted her hold on the baby in her arms, and she held up Warlock for the gardener to see.

"An' this is young master Warlock, I presume. 'e's a 'andsome baby, Mrs Dowlin." Brother Francis brought a finger close to Warlock's little fist. Warlock managed to grab the perfectly manicured finger close and let it go again.

"You're 'Brother' Francis Fell?" Nanny asked.

"Part of the church group in my 'ometown, miss."

"Delightful," she said, her voice anything but delighted. Harriet smiled at them both.

"Well, I have to tend to a few more things. Thaddeus - er, Mr Dowling - will be coming by the end of the week, and I've been trying to make everything perfect for when he gets home." Harriet cooed at her son again, thanked both of her new employees and went on her way. The gardener and the nanny were left alone.

"You look lovely, my dear."

"Oh, shut up." Nanny Ashtoreth sat down on the bench where Brother Francis had been sitting, rocking little Warlock. "Why a gardener?"

"Think about it," Brother Francis chuckled. "A little toddler is prone to run about outside, appreciate the sunlight. Why not have the garden all ready for him!"

Nanny shrugged, Warlock gurgling at the two of them. "Whatever he does, we just have to make sure that he doesn't turn into the hellion that his father wants him to be. If we do fail-" She waved her hand, gesturing to everything about them. "-this is all gone. Everything we've seen in the last 6000 years..."

Francis nodded, looking to the peonies that he had just made bloom, fragrant and bright, with only his presence. He noticed the same brilliant pink on Warlock's cheeks, though soft and fragile. Nanny cradled Warlock to her chest, speaking to him about something that Francis would rather not repeat.

"Already? Really?"

"You were a third generation, weren't you?" Nanny leered. "All of the Almighty's Creatures begin learning early, and no second can be wasted."

Brother Francis frowned before moving to sit next to Nanny Ashtoreth, looking over at the baby. Warlock was sleepily looking up at them, blinking back against the sunshine. Nanny pulled a parasol, seemingly from nothingness, and covered herself and the baby in a cool shade.

"You're quite perceptive about him."

"Used to be my job with you lot, but-" Nanny Ashtoreth gave Brother Francis a smile, amused by his reaction at Rover growling at him. "-You wouldn't know that, would you?"

"I know that I am younger than you, but that's all." Brother Francis gave the now dozing Warlock a caress across his forehead. "What did you do before?"

"Brother Francis, I should take Warlock inside. No reason to be away from his mother after all, especially with all the dangers outside of the house, even in the garden." With that, Nanny Ashtoreth walked into the house, Warlock asleep in her arms, and a demonic wind closed the door just after Rover ran in after her.

* * *

"You look quite beautiful."

Jegudiel took to designing the corporations for everyone. Jegudiel - in a corporation that he said that he liked much better now - designed one that the Seventh Archangel immediately loved7. With long red hair - the color of the red earth that gave birth to so many of the new plants and brilliant red stars that Mother let Who-would-be-Crowley create - and beautiful eyes of gold and blue, Who-would-be-Crowley loved how he looked.

"Thank you, Jegudiel. You look quite nice yourself." Who-would-be-Crowley admired how quick with his hands Jegudiel was, arranging metals into different shapes and functions. "How is Haniel?"

"Active and devoted, as she should be."

Haniel8 was a precocious little Angel. She often found herself running in the new Garden that Mother had Created, though away from the Humans that Mother had made. Most of the Angels tended to stay away from the humans. When he tended to his favourite plants, Who-would-be-Crowley would often spot her leading the little Angels that she had Created with the helpful Netzach, sent by the Metatron. Lucifer would often come by, making sure that the Garden was well lit with sunlight and that Who-would-be-Crowley would be helped with his gardening.

Who-would-be-Crowley often found himself needing the help on and off. Palaliah would often get caught up in singing to Mother while they gardened and followed Crowley close. Alone, Cassiel would try to heal any of the Creatures that would be hurt, sometimes focused on crying as his tears were his tool. Artiya'il found himself listening to all of their siblings' worries, sometimes forgetting to care for wilting blossoms or overripe fruits. Gabriel had said that they were just like Who-would-be-Crowley; their hearts were too big and their imaginations too wild.

The new Angels had been called Principalities, and they were going to take charge of the tasks that Crowley and his siblings were in charge of originally, so that they may take care of Humans as they began to inhabit the rest of Mother's Earth.

There was one small Angel, deemed a Principality, who would take on Who-would-be-Crowley's former role in Creation. He followed the Seventh Archangel whenever Haniel would let the young Principalities have free time. Often, this little Angel would venture by Who-would-be-Crowley's post in the East, watching as Sister Sun would rise and then turning to see Mother's Creations wake up with Sister Sun. They never spoke their name, but Who-would-be-Crowley was often addressed with his name and the title "brother".

"Hello," Who-would-be-Crowley greeted.

"Hello, brother!" the Angel greeted in turn. There was a joy and naivety there that Crowley found himself longing for the time-before when he and his siblings would do that. It was amazing that he could feel this without Haniel's Creation even having a corporation just yet.

After watching the Sun rise on this certain day, Who-would-be-Crowley came to his new post above the Earth, making stars with Creation itself. He welcomed the little Angel to his star-kiln, whose heart-Light was bright, almost like a star itself that had just come into full combustion.

"Come, and watch me."

Who-would-be-Crowley let the Angel rest in his lap as they began to make a star. The Principality cheered on the Archangel as Who-would-be-Crowley called for elements to create brilliant colors and brightness that would exit on this star. The table where the Archangel would spin his materials into a glowing mass began its rotation. Who-would-be-Crowley told his little companion of what this star would be, how they could interact with stars themselves when they settled into their place in Mother's Universe.

"A violet star for Brother Gabriel! That sounds lovely!"

The Principality called out what Who-would-be-Crowley had taught them about star-making. "Kyrios and hill-grass! The Sea and the Sun!"

"Very good, angel."

"Why do you call me that, brother?" The Principality settled deeper into Who-would-be-Crowley's lap as the Archangel moved his hands on his table. The star was mixed into its being, molded into the spherical shape that seemed to be what the elder Angel had done for all of his Creations.

"You have no name yet, little one. Of all of us, Jegudiel has never told me your name."

"Oh!" The Principality remarked at the star that had begun to catch a violet hue, though not yet its brightness. "I am Of-the-East!"

"Of-the-East? My direction?"

"I am yours, dear brother!"

Who-would-be-Crowley lifted his hands from the star, his body quivering in that moment. His wings were curling at their ends as he processed what his lesser was saying. The star continued to spin; if Who-would-be-Crowley waited much longer, his gift for Gabriel would be ruined.

His Heart began to pound out light, one that rivaled the Star on his table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 If Harriet had known that her son was being told of the Nicaraguan Revolution, she might have different things to say on the matter. For some reason, Nanny Ashtoreth had her complete trust.
> 
> 6 Alexandrite is a stone guarding against evil. A handy thing to keep other demons away...
> 
> 7 Jegudiel had always been a very strict Archangel. He governed his brothers with their corporations, save for aesthetics. He had made Raphael's corporation with the idea in mind that he should be serpentine in appearance - slender, tall, and with dexterous hands.
> 
> 8 Haniel and the Netzach are the leaders of the Principalities, associated with victory and eternity. They like to run in the Garden and watch over some of the Principalities more closely than others. Poyel often attracted their attention.


	3. In the Hovel

Brother Francis often found Nanny Ashtoreth holding the infant Warlock, Rover following behind. When he would sit on the bench by the peonies, Brother Francis would watch as Nanny would lay a blanket down on the grass, little Warlock enjoying the sunlight. He could see that Nanny had acquired small sunglasses for the baby, protecting infant eyes from the harsh rays of Sister Sun.

She would talk to the baby. Sometimes, it was of violent revolution; other times, it was of how strange humans could be, with their clever machines or clever tricks9. Other times, when Brother Francis was close enough to hear, he would hear Nanny talk of small things or sing to him.

On this occasion, Nanny was singing to the baby, Rover wandering by the camellia flowers. Brother Fell was walking by, a watering can in his hand to tend to the daffodils by the fence.

> _Last night as I lay on my pillow,_  
>  _Last night as I lay on my bed,_  
>  _Last night as I lay on my pillow,_  
>  _I dreamed that my Bonnie was dead_
> 
> _Her eyes, they no longer close_  
>  _Her eyes, they no longer see_  
>  _Her eyes and body, they froze_  
>  _Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me_ 10

Brother Fell sighed to himself, letting the watering can loose from his grip. As its contents spilled onto the ground, the grass greedily drank. He picked up the can, before turning back to Nanny and Warlock. He met the gaze covered by dark lenses.

"Are you all right?"

"Pardon me, my dear," Brother Francis excused himself, "I've never heard you sing before."

The Nanny scoffed. "Perhaps you never paid attention."

Warlock demanded her attentions, and the Nanny gave it willingly. Her painted lips, dark and inviting, began to move again.

> _Should old acquaintance be forgot,_  
>  _And never brought to mind?_  
>  _Should old acquaintance be forgot,_  
>  _And days of olden times?_

Brother Francis picked up his watering can again, going to fill it for the daffodils. He tried to ignore how lovely the Nanny looked. He attempted to ignore how soft Miss Tovia Ashtoreth looked, her hair pulled up prim and proper and her skirts arranged like a painting under her legs. Her hands were gentle, her fingers long and dexterous. Nanny's voice was like a breeze, refreshing and sweet. The cut of her jaw was sharp, fierce in protecting her charge.

When he walked by again with the watering can, she didn't notice him, as she was pressing kisses to Warlock's chubby cheeks, relishing every giggle and smile that came from those pouting baby lips. He had never seen her so soft, as though she truly wanted all to be well and good for this tiny life in her care. Brother Francis knew that this task was to keep the baby healthy and normal, but there was more effort than necessary there. Something was pulling the Nanny much closer to this infant's heart that Miss Tovia would ever dare to admit.

"Are you hungry, baby?" Nanny Ashtoreth asked, stroking his smooth cheeks. Warlock turned and suckled on the tip of one of her fingers. Nanny nodded and picked up the baby and the blanket. Rover came towards his master, the little beast wagging its tail happily.

"Good day, miss."

Nanny turned to Brother Francis, her shoulder once relaxed now tense. She had forgotten that he was there. Brother Francis could not recall a time when that happened.

"And you, Brother Francis."

With that, that was the last that they saw each other the rest of the day, until they would meet for their nightly sharing of events over glasses of wine, their tasks left for the sunlight.

* * *

The little Principality Of-the-East often would follow Who-would-be-Crowley into the garden. They would speak of trackless thoughts, things that were lost to the gentle breeze that Gabriel would give them from the West. Even now, they were speaking of the games that the First Man and the First Woman were playing. Sometimes, they would copy the animals, touching and petting each other. Angels had never found that need before, the need to connect with their corporations, but perhaps that was because not many of them had corporations yet.

It was not of a desire to hold something lovely, Who-would-be-Crowley and Of-the-East realised. It was that the two humans longed to be as connected as the Angels were with each other. Of-the-East would watch carefully, wondering what would occur.

"The Man presses his mouth to her body. It's like he's decorating or grooming her!"

"Yes," Who-would-be-Crowley agreed, grabbing some of the fruit. "It's normal."

"They are going to mate one day," Pahaliah explained, gathering some of the fruit and taking them to their siblings. Over her shoulder, she told them, "Part of this is to show affection. Like when we occasionally groom each other's wings."11

"It is like that," Who-would-be-Crowley said, waving off Pahaliah, "but they were made for each other. Like how each of Mother's Creatures was made with a partner, save for those Creatures that Mother made able to breed their offspring without a partner - they have big groups for those connections - the Humans were made for each other."

"Like how I am made for you."

Who-would-be-Crowley let a damson fall from his fingertips. There were strange stirrings in his Heart at times, when the Principality would say such things. Creations were made to have partners, but not the Angels. Sure, the Metatron and Sandalphon were made from the same Heart, and that meant that they were linked. The Metatron and Sandalphon communicated directly with one another, and no other Angel could withstand that Power between them.

If this young Angel was made for him, crafted as Jegudiel knew their Mother would wish for it, as all things came of Her will, then what was Who-would-be-Crowley meant for?

Picking up the damson and placing it in the basket for himself, Who-would-be-Crowley led the Principality to his smith's table. Here, he was working again on Gabriel's gift, the violet star.

"Who told you that you are meant to be mine, angel?" the Archangel pressed, boiling elements spilling from his fingers and decorating the kiln around them.

"Mother did!"

"You mean Haniel."

"No, Mother did! With her grace, she told me that I am to be Principality Of-the-East, that I am to be yours!" The Principality floated up and spun above Who-would-be-Crowley. There was a delight in their blue and gold colors, shining much like one of the first stars that Who-would-be-Crowley had ever made. "Anything you need help with, brother, I will be able to help you! Oh, I must ask Brother Jegudiel for a proper corporation, then, so that I will be a good partner for you."

Who-would-be-Crowley followed the Principality's path of light, as the younger Angel rattled on about what the two could do together. Oh, they could be in the Garden, enjoying the stars that they could make together! They could water the plants that Mother had made for them to care for, enjoy the Eldest Angel's sunlight, and perhaps teach the Humans of the hidden knowledge that the Angel-that-would-become-Crowley had.

"Then... Of-Raphael... That would be your name."

Crowley, who was then Raphael, would look back on this day with a longing that he never really understood, perhaps too far Fallen to realise the Angelic reason for this little Principality's existence. For whatever reason, this Principality was made for him, something that had never occurred since Mother declared that Existence could Be. Jegudiel had made a companion for him, one that looked at his work with such awe that Raphael could only make more and more, desperate to keep the light of the Angel's heart bright and splendid. For whatever reason, this Principality was made for him, something that had never occurred since Mother declared that Existence could Be.

"Aziraphale."

For the first time, Raphael felt protective, possessive, happiness over something that belonged to no other... This was Love, furthest and closest to Mother Herself, that was selfish and selfless. He welcomed the Angel close again, cradling Aziraphale in close proximity to his abdomen and almost wishing that the pure Love that he could feel radiating from the younger could fall into him. They could disappear into each other, even if Mother didn't want it this way, because She had let it Be.

What would happen if they did?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 The favorite one of the Nanny was the story of Nikola Tesla, who had gotten free stay in a hotel by handing over plans for a death machine, only for it to be trinkets and trash. Bring death into a conversation, and humans can accomplish much.
> 
> 10 Brother Francis was tempted to find out where some of these rhymes came from. On one occasion, he had attempted to ask. Rover bit his ankle.
> 
> 11 Pahaliah did ignore the fact that Angels did not mate with one another. They are all being created by the Almighty, just as she wants them. That didn't stop the Angels once they saw what the First Humans would do when mating.


	4. In the Storm

When Brother Francis came inside one day for seedlings, it had been a month since his hiring day. He had wandered down a hallway by the nursery. Mrs Dowling had told him that she had placed the seedlings in her office, running along with Mr Dowling to get to a lunch meeting.

"Where are these tulip bulbs?" He eventually found them under some folders and papers of medical history, hidden from the sunshine. Brother Francis pondered this, grabbing the bag of tulip bulbs.

They were not where the lady of the house had said. She had mentioned that they were in a bag on her desk. When he had looked there, Brother Francis had found some pills. Prescriptions were strong, but Brother Francis did not know what these were. He'd keep this quiet, as all humans seemed to respect propriety above all else.12

Ignoring them, Brother Francis came back to the hallway, closing the door behind him. He could hear Nanny humming something in the nursery. It was something old and longing, as though Brother Francis could feel it in his Heart.

He came back to the nursery, where Rover was sleeping by the doorway. Rover was curled in on himself, small body moving with false breathing. The small beast was guarding an open doorway, leaving Brother Francis to look inside.

If he were human, Brother Francis would have left immediately. However, he was an ethereal being, so propriety was only a human characteristic that he liked to observed. He didn't find anything wrong with observation, even if Warlock was drinking straight from Tovia Ashtroreth's breast. The babe was holding onto her breast, gripping her with the ferocity of hunger.

> _Hee-o, wee-o, what would I do with you?_  
>  _Black's the life that I lead with you;_  
>  _Too many of you, little for to give you._  
>  _Hee-o, wee-o, what would I do with you?_

For all that he knew of Nanny Tovia Ashtoreth, Brother Francis could not recall any sweeter image of her. Her sharp corners and harsh lines had been cleared of their edges, all softness coming from her arms where she held little Warlock. When they shifted the child to her other breast, it was slow, measured. Her cooing and singing had the child in a state near sleep, and Brother Francis knew that Nanny would not wake him.

"Will you keep standing there?" Brother Francis could not see Nanny's eyes, but he knew they were scrutinizing him.

"I... My dear... How long have you been doing this?" It was the only question that Brother Francis could think of to be appropriate. Why was the boy's mother not feeding him? Why would... Why would this Fallen Creature be doing something so intimate and nurturing when Harriet Dowling loved Warlock so?

"Since I got here, angel." Crowley took off his sunglasses, looking to the angel in the doorway. Those serpentine eyes had their pupils almost circular. They were round and welcoming, almost a mimicry of a human's eyes, should they be golden and unreflecting.

To Aziraphale, they were the most lovely.

"Can the boy's mother-"

"Despair does awful things to humans, angel. It makes one doubt and then reject everything." Crowley let out a small groan as Warlock shifted his own mouth, looking for a better way to drink from his caretaker. Aziraphale watched as Crowley chided at the boy, using his finger to break the boy's suction and helping him find it again. Soon the babe was suckling again, Crowley humming to him gently.

"Does that not hurt you?"

"No." Crowley looked to Aziraphale again. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"... Only tulips, my dear."

"Then go do it."

The words cut, but Aziraphale only found himself enticed to go in. He wanted to continue watching this. The demon in front of him was lovely and gentle and nothing like what Aziraphale could have considered to be associated with the Fallen Angels.

Crowley slipped his sunglasses back on.

"Brother Francis-"

"Yes, m' dear Tovia. Excuse me." Brother Francis left the room, closing the door on the newly started lullaby sung by the nursing woman.

* * *

Raphael continued to bring Aziraphale alongside him. Wherever the Archangel went, the Principality followed. It felt like an eternity, but this was how the days were in the Beginning13. Both were pleased with this, but Raphael often found himself wanting to stay like this. Even when Aziraphale got his corporation, Raphael wanted to keep the younger Angel close. They would not be able to do so if they were to follow their roles. Aziraphale would guard the Eastern Gate of Eden, and Raphael would...

Why did Raphael have this task from Mother? It served no purpose now, not as things were.

His wind made the leaves rustle, the fruit and vegetation falling into the waiting hands of the Humans and the eager paws of the animals. His knowledge of what Mother wanted in all of her Children was being passed on to his students. His other skills, these... Nurturing skills, they served no purpose because nothing else existed.

He knew of Concepts such as Pain, Hurt, and Fear. He knew that Mother had told him of them because it was necessary. It was necessary for his skills that he knew, but there was nothing here in the Garden that could cause those things. None of Mother's Creatures wanted because they had all that they could need; they suffered none for nothing could cause suffering.

Raphael was useless, especially once Aziraphale took his place.

"Brother, are you troubled?" Aziraphale curled close to Raphael's arm, playing with his long red hair. Raphael shivered at the touch.

"I'm... Yes, I am, but it is nothing of consequence."

"Are you sure? I am yours, Brother. I can listen!"

Raphael placed a hand over Aziraphale's heart, letting the wisps of Creation's Light that made its constitution grace the fingers of his corporation. When they would do this, when they would comfort each other, Raphael ignored those feelings inside of him, the ones that demanded attention for fear of disgracing his gifts.

He ignored the questions that he had for his Mother, the questions of his skills as a Healer. Mother had told him of his purpose in the moment of his Creation.

**AS YOU HAVE SEEN, YOUR SIBLINGS HAVE THEIR TASKS. THERE IS THE ONE WHO HOLDS THE POWER OF MY CELESTIAL LIGHT; ONE WHO HAS THE POWER TO FIGHT IN MY NAME; ONE WHO LETS MY LIGHT EXTEND INTO THE FURTHEST DARKNESS; ONE WHO TRANSLATES MY MESSAGES INTO WORDS FOR ALL; THE ONE WHO CARRIES THE MESSAGES FROM MY TONGUE TO EVERYONE'S EARS; THE ONE WHO MONITORS ALL AND HAS GIVEN YOU THE ABILITY TO WANDER IN MY CREATION.**

**YOU SHALL BE MY HEALER, WHO PROTECTS MY CREATIONS FROM PAIN AND SUFFERING.**

But what use does she have for a Healer, when she did not create something to Heal?

"Aziraphale!"

Both Angels looked to Haniel, who called for the Principality.

"Yes?"

"Jegudiel wishes for you!"

Raphael almost grabbed the Principality there. What would Jegudiel want with what was his?

Aziraphale went obediently. Raphael was speechless as he watched his Angel - His! - follow Haniel. Both young Angels spoke of something that Raphael didn't care about; it was something that no longer concerned the Archangel.

His Heart pounded...

It was painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 Such a thing seemed foolish, but Humans were young and didn't live long enough to understand that unity was sometimes better than propriety, especially when it benefited no-one.  
> 13 It was because of the fluidity of time that scientists today have so many theories and discrepancies in their research. Once the Almighty had decided on set time limits for events like days, life was a bit easier to manage.


	5. In the Rainbow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For MoonChildEmpress, who left me a lovely comment :)  
> May all days be good for you

Nanny Ashtoreth sang many songs to Warlock. Harriet often found the two of them reading or singing together, as the months went on. As Christmas came close, Nanny began to take Warlock shopping.

"He'll need proper clothing for the winter ahead."

"Of course!"

On one such shopping venture, Harriet decided to come along. She walked alongside Nanny Ashtoreth as the Nanny pushed Warlock in his stroller. The two spoke of random happenings in the last five months.

Nanny Ashtoreth spoke of the stories of Warlock's development and his recent doctor's appointments. She even spoke of old tales of children that she had cared for before. She did mention a very spiritual young boy that she'd helped to guide during his youth; she also mentioned a young man that she had known - powerful and very respectful of his mother14.

Harriet spoke of her own doctor's appointments and how they had been progressing. She seemed to have made some progress. She could still not breastfeed Warlock - an unspoken topic between them both - but she now would change her son's nappies and played with him. Nanny Ashtoreth praised her for her efforts.

"Did you have a child before this, I wonder?" Harriet asked, looking over the little rompers for her baby. It wasn't illogical to think that her son's Nanny had had a child; she was able to feed Warlock well.

Nanny Ashtoreth stopped where she was rolling Warlock's stroller back and forth. The babbling of the baby was quiet but very active. Nanny Ashtoreth did not turn towards her employer.

The silence was suffocating.

"I'm sorry." Harriet let go of the romper she was looking at, going to her Nanny's side. "I shouldn't have said anything... I was just wondering. That was personal-"

"No, it's a good question, ma'am."

"Tovia-"

"Please, Mrs Dowling." Nanny turned to Harriet, but even Harriet could tell that her Nanny was upset15 . No, that wasn't what she wanted. This woman was helping Harriet so much by caring for Warlock.

"No, I don't have a child."

Harriet nodded and bent down to see Warlock. His bright eyes recognised her, his hand reaching out to her.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Warlock."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Mr Dowling did not know that Nanny Ashtoreth was nursing Warlock. It wasn't until the small family was in the sitting room one evening. They were in the middle of a film as Thaddeus Dowling and Harriet were huddling together on the couch. Nanny was coddling their son when Warlock began to cry suddenly. Thaddeus saw that Harriet only smiled as Nanny Ashtoreth was already getting up to pick up his son.

"What's he crying about? Does he need a diaper change?" the father asked.

"No, sir, he's just hungry." Nanny excused herself before quickly leaving to the nursery, Rover pattering behind her. Thaddeus' brow furrowed as he watched the woman leave with his son.

"I thought..." He turned to his wife. Harriet was engrossed in the film they were watching. "Weren't you bottle-feeding him?"

"... No."

"Is she doing that, then?" The mother of Thaddeus Dowling had always done so. He and his younger brother had both been fed that way as infants. He had been sure that his wife was doing the same. Even feeding him the traditional way was fine. It was just that Thaddeus thought that Harriet had been bonding well with Warlock already.

"She's breastfeeding him."

Thaddeus felt his brow go upward, his mouth suddenly dry. "But she's-"

"It's my decision, Tad." Her eyes stayed focused on the television screen. Over the last few weeks since she had seen her husband, Harriet didn't shy away from his touch but only grew stern when he tried to nuzzle his way under her defenses of her love for Mr Dowling. This was one of the first times that Harriet disagreed with her husband and remained steadfast, settling against his body to keep him from moving. He hesitantly obeyed. He owed her that much.

* * *

Rover managed to push open the door to the nursery, waiting for his master to come meet him. Nanny cooed to the crying Warlock, cradling him close and pressing the infant to her chest.

"It's okay, little one," Nanny whispered. She had Rover close the door behind them, and he stood watch at the inside of the door as was his task. Nanny Ashtoreth set Warlock in his bassinet for a moment, chiding him kindly as he whimpered for her affections.

"Creature, it's all right. I'm here."

Nanny Ashtoreth began to remove her jacket. She unbuttoned her shirt and lifted Warlock again, making her way to the rocking chair where they usually sat. Nanny was more often walking without a brassiere than with one on. There was logic to this, she knew; it was much easier to start feeding him this way. She would ignore that there was a glee in her bosom whenever she saw her charge reach for her.

Right now, Warlock was latching and suckling sweetly, hungry and searching for comfort from his Nanny. Nanny took to singing a tune.

> _This little piggy went to Hades_  
>  _This little piggy stayed home_  
>  _This little piggy ate raw and steaming human flesh_  
>  _This little piggy violated virgins_  
>  _And this little piggy clambered over a heap of dead bodies to get to the top_

She loved to sing this and other songs to him. She loved how he giggled at awful things that he did not yet understand, how those laughs filled her heart with a delight that could not be understood by anyone else. It was because she was talking to him as though he understood. It was because they were alone and they were together. Rover didn't count16.

He drank from her other breast before a quick burping. Warlock was getting fussier as of late, harder to put to sleep at night and harder to let go. Something in Tovia Ashtoreth could feel something coming on. Warlock's stomach...

Crowley placed her hand on Warlock's stomach, her energies pressing out into the little Dark Lord. He was very human, indeed, and she felt nothing there denying such a thing. Crowley pressed a kiss to his little forehead, inhaling the sweet, pure scent of infant and beginning to sing to him again. She pressed forward healing energy, something that she hadn't done in a while. She felt the roots of colic beginning to dig themselves into her charge. With a old familiarity that brought tears to her eyes - though Crowley would never admit to it - Crowley removed the colic from Warlock, a peaceful baby once more.

> _I've placed my cradle_  
>  _On that holly top,_  
>  _And yes, as the wind blew_  
>  _My cradle did rock._  
>  _And hush-a-bye, baby,_  
>  _O ba-lilly-loo,_  
>  _And hush-a-bye birdie_  
>  _My pretty, little dove!_

Crowley felt a pain rush through her. It was of glass carving its way through her arms. She shuddered, but she didn't let go of Warlock. She only held him tighter in her arms, afraid to let go.

"My pretty, little dove..." Crowley closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Warlock's own. Oh, she had fallen in love with this child - would do anything for this child! - and yet she was trying to make sure that this child would not perform its Satanic purpose.

What was the point of this child being born? Why did she have to love this child?

She thought that had ended years ago.

* * *

"Raphael, Youngest Archangel, are you well?"

Lucifer stood there, the tips of his wings gracing the ground, even when he carried them high on his back. The oldest of the Archangels, Lucifer came to sit next to Raphael. Under the shade of a tree's branches, Raphael had been taking small flowers and threading their thin, flexible stems together. As the life from the flowers faded, Raphael whispered little prayers for them.

"You care too much, Youngest."

"Luci..." Raphael leaned his head on his eldest sibling's shoulder, letting his fingers make braids and twists that resulted in simple knots that he could freely manipulate. "I do."

"Does it harm you?" Lucifer's eyes widened as Raphael dropped his flowers, seizing Lucifer's arm. Blue-golden eyes stared up at Lucifer's own red-golden eyes.

"Do you know what 'hurt' is? What 'pain' is?"

Lucifer gave him a small smile, placing a hand on Raphael's.

"Of course I do, Youngest."

"How?"

Lucifer sighed, bringing Raphael close to him. He reached around to hold him and to begin to plait his hair. He pressed his mouth to Raphael's forehead, much like in imitation of the humans' affections. Raphael welcomed Lucifer's kiss.

"I cannot tell you. It is not Mother's plan for you to know."

Raphael pushed against Lucifer, grunting in frustration. "If you know what it is, then you surely know why I want to know."

"My dear Youngest, pain makes you appreciate happiness, doesn't it?" Lucifer held onto Raphael, holding him and rocking him gently. "I see how you are in the Garden. You are starting to think of things outside of Her Plan, aren't you?"

"Can you not?"

"I am limited by Her Plan, Raphael," Lucifer seemed to hiss out. His face, beautiful and smooth, was contorted into something like frustration but much stronger.

"You are angry."

"... Yes, I am. Her Plan limits all of us, and it has placed the Humans as her greatest Creations."

Raphael tried to understand what his eldest sibling meant. There was a pride there in being Mother's Creations and a pain - a hurt that Raphael could see in his sibling's eyes alone - at no longer being held in such regard by their Mother. His fingers placed themselves in Lucifer's black hair.

"You are hurt."

"I am, Raphael, yes." Lucifer kissed Raphael's forehead again. "Mother no longer wishes for us to enjoy Her Garden so much. She has turned away from us, and She focused on these New-Children."

Raphael held back frowning to watch a strange energy take hold in his sibling's eyes. That anger, that pain, was changing his brother, but Raphael could see the change in Mother's actions. She was staying silent, speaking only through the Metatron, Sandalphon, and Gabriel. There were no more instructions on what to do nor what they should Create. They no longer received praise nor Love for any of it.

"Is there a reason that She no longer is talking to us, Luci? Is that part of the plan?"

Lucifer sighed, letting go of Raphael and standing. He looked down at him with an expression that Raphael didn't understand17.

"Talk to Her. Directly, as I have."

Raphael felt his mouth open. To speak to Mother... Without the Metatron between them? What had Lucifer done?

"What did She say?"

"Speak to Her," Lucifer advised. "You may get your answer then."

With that, Lucifer spread his wings and flew out of the Garden, out into the sunlight and leaving the youngest Archangel in the shade. He turned around once to meet Raphael's gaze and turned away again, daring Raphael to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 The first had been the Son of God, whose Mother did nothing whenever the boy would get lost - they spent many days talking about what they had seen on their walks to the boy's home. The second had been Attila the Hun, who little Warlock would learn about more later.  
> 15Oh, Harriet Dowling never knew how close she came to being killed. Tovia Ashtoreth was not partial to killing people; human flesh was an acquired taste, but perhaps Nanny could be tempted to it today. Rover would enjoy it.  
> 16 Rover would not be happy to hear that. His master gave him excellent treats, though; waste not, want not.  
> 17 Crowley would forget much of that day. Many of those days disappeared like fog blown away. He could remember those eyes, however, and he knew that for all of the love that was there, Lucifer had held an emotion that no-one had known of before the eldest of the Archangels.


	6. In the Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 24 July 2019 1327 CDT: I am fixing the footnotes for the stories to continue through all the chapters, in case anyone is reading in "Entire Work" mode and they can click on the footnotes without issue.

It was the Fifth of November when Nanny Tovia Ashtoreth accompanied the Dowling parents and their infant to the family's first Guy Fawkes celebration. They watched, for the first time, as people began to make a pile of kindling and firewood. Another person brought an effigy of a person, a man, to immolate on this pyre.

"And they do this all over England?"

"They do it here, in Wales, and in Scotland." Thaddeus adjusted his jacket, holding Harriet's hand in his own. She looked down at their hands and gave him a sweet smile. He hadn't seen a smile like that since before Warlock was born.

"It's creepy," Harriet said softly, "but I won't lie; it's kind of romantic. Whole towns and communities, making bonfires, lighting fireworks, and coming together like this."

Thaddeus nodded. He looked over to Nanny Ashtoreth, who had Warlock bundled up in a jacket and pants. She was bouncing him slightly, talking to him. She held him close, the fashionable black scarf around her neck matching one that she had put on the baby boy.

He excused himself from Harriet's side, just for a moment. He walked over to where Nanny and Warlock sat on a bench.

> _Guy Fawkes and his companions_  
>  _Did the scheme contrive,_  
>  _To blow the King and Parliament_  
>  _All up alive_

"That's the 'Remember, Remember' rhyme?"

"Yes, Mr Dowling." Nanny turned Warlock so that he was facing his father. The baby babbled and reached out slightly, enough to grab his father's finger when he came close. "He likes you, sir."

"I hope so. I'm his dad."

"Sometimes fathers don't bond well with babies. Sometimes mothers, too. Like Mrs Dowling."

Thaddeus looked over his shoulder to his wife when Nanny said that, watching as Harriet was handed a sparkler by a kind woman. The slender stick, its tip now ablaze, began to let out sparks of blue-violet. Harriet looked almost too happy to see that small bit of beauty.

He wondered if that was his fault.

"Whether it is or not, she doesn't hold it against you." Nanny adjusted her grip on Warlock, letting the boy sit on her lap. Thaddeus made no move to pick up his son, and Nanny seemed to know that he wouldn't make a move.

"... I'm trying."

"And that's good." Warlock reached up to play with Nanny's scarf, his fingers able to pinch now. Nanny gave him her pendant to play with as well.

"Thanks. Thanks for helping Harriet and for taking care of Warlock." Thaddeus caressed Warlock's chubby cheek with his back of his knuckles, smiled as his son smiled in kind.

"You're very welcome, sir."

* * *

That evening, in the nursery, Crowley found that they were ready to start something new. They had talked with Aziraphale, who was now tending to some rose-hip berries and hawthorn berries. He was going to make preserves with them, as well as wine for lovely Nanny.

Right now, Crowley had mixed some of their breast milk with a little bit of rice cereal. Warlock was currently suckling on one of their breasts, content to be there for some time. His curious eyes were closed, wholly embracing his Nanny's presence.

"Okay, Creature. You've been able to sit up for two weeks. Let's try some food." Gently, Crowley broke off the suction that Warlock had on their breast with their finger. Warlock opened his eyes, pouting with a confused expression on his face. He began to frown, his eyes filled with discomfort. Before the boy could cry, however, Crowley slipped in a half-spoonful of warm rice cereal into the baby's mouth. Warlock's eyes widened, wondering what this object in his mouth was.

"Go on, Lock. Just try," Crowley cheered on, rubbing his back with a constant, rooting pressure. "You're growing, and I can't feed you for-ever."

They ignored the unease in their chest at that idea.

Warlock moved the spoon side to side in his little mouth. After a few moments, Warlock's mouth moved more than it usually did when he was eating. Crowley could feel that the baby had swallowed. Sure enough, when the Nanny pulled the spoon away, there was none left.

"Good boy, Warlock." Crowley patted the baby's back, watching his mouth open again and his eyes looking up at Nanny with eagerness and need. The baby leaned toward Crowley, and Crowley relented. One bite was a good start, anyway.

With that accomplished, a milestone for the baby Anti-Christ, Crowley adjusted their hold and let Warlock latch to their breast again, trying to ignore how much they loved feeding the baby like this.

* * *

Raphael excused himself from his siblings' sight on the next day. As soon as Lucifer, Michael, and Uriel came and went, Raphael wandered into his first home, where Creation itself was abundant and pure. He never noticed that Lucifer looked back at Raphael, a curious spark in red-gold eyes.

He could not find the Metatron, and he remembered that Sandalphon and the Metatron were currently speaking with one another. They were talking where the edge of Mother and Creation lived. Raphael had gone to another edge, waiting.

**HELLO, RAPHAEL.**

He was surrounded by beautiful energy, an acceptance that made his eyes fill with tears as his Mother surrounded him, invaded his very nature and threatened to rip him apart. There was no reason to scream, but Raphael found himself doing so anyway.

"Mother!"

**RAPHAEL, WHAT IS TROUBLING YOU?**

"Why am I... Why am I in pain?!"

**THIS IS YOUR PURPOSE, RAPHAEL.**

"To... Am I to be in pain, for eternity?"

**WHAT CAUSED YOU PAIN, RAPHAEL?**

Raphael thought of Aziraphale, that possessiveness that seized him whenever his thoughts went to the Principality and when they were together. Then, it struck, the pain of possibly being separated from Aziraphale, that Aziraphale would no longer miss his company nor want it. Aziraphale was so full of Love and love and liking, and Jegudiel could break him. With how fierce the Archangel could be, Jegudiel could reshape Aziraphale...

He could change Aziraphale into something else.

**YOU ARE LOST.**

Raphael nodded, unsure of what that meant. He reached out to Mother, trying to understand what She wanted of him. His eyes were hurting from how bright She was-is-would always be. He wanted to know where he was going.

"Please! Am I to Heal myself? How do I do that? Why am I in pain!"

**YOU FEEL LOVE, RAPHAEL.**

"No, your love doesn't feel like this!" He could feel stars burning underneath his skin, ready to let them loose in a flash of fire and light. Raphael gripped at his arms, trying to resist that burning. "It doesn't make you try to keep us close! It doesn't keep my siblings close! I want everything to be how it is. I want my Angel to stay the same but to change like how your Humans are! I want to stay by Aziraphale no matter where they go!"18

**YOU WANT GROWTH.**

"Yes!" Something in him was understood, finally, but She had always known that. "I want to Create things that I want to see! I want to show Aziraphale those things. I want mine and Mine to see Everything!"

**YOU MAY BE HURT, RAPHAEL.**

"... I don't care. I want to be with him and them and everyone!" It was the first time that Raphael had defied Mother, and it was to explore everything beautiful that She had created.

**I MADE YOU WELL, RAPHAEL.**

Had this been Her intention?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 Now it could be that Raphael had yet to understand all of Love in its forms, or it could have been that feeling the beauty of Aziraphale's Light had intoxicated the Archangel into a state much like Obsession. In any case, it had distracted Raphael from his following duties and reminded him of what his True Purpose, given to him by his Mother, was - and it was a pain that he would willingly partake in to have any number of seconds, years, centuries with Aziraphale that he could have.


	7. In the Fountains

Harriet Dowling was adjusting some nappies in Warlock's nappy bag. This was a momentous day for the mother and son - they were going to go to the park without Nanny.

"I'm so excited, Tovy." The aforementioned Nanny "Tovy" Ashtoreth looked over to Harriet. Nanny was getting Warlock into some warm clothes as Harriet hummed some song that she hardly remembered. "I hope everything goes well."

"I'm sure it will be fine, Mrs Dowling," Nanny assured her, slipping on a little hat onto Warlock's head to shield him from the cold. Harriet came over, picking up her son and pressing kisses to his cheeks. Nanny let her fingers grace his fingers, and he played Catch with her long, delicate fingers. "You behave, young man."

Warlock babbled at her, protesting.

"If you do need anything or if he starts misbehaving in a way that you cannot handle, Mrs Dowling, just call my mobile."

"Right. I have the diapers, wipes, the blanket, stroller, carrier, bottles, extra milk..." Harriet drifted off as she placed Warlock into the carrier that could attach to the pram that she had bought before her son was born. Warlock babbled up at her, and Harriet spoke back to her boy, raising the pitch of her voice just like her therapist had advised her.

"I will have to get more containers," Nanny told her employer, "so that we can have extra milk for him." Harriet nodded as she placed Warlock's feeding record19 in a special pocket of the nappy bag.

"I think I'm ready to go." Harriet turned and spread her arms a bit reaching towards Nanny. Nanny nodded. Harriet hugged her close and not too tightly. 

"Thank you, Tovy."

A bodyguard came into the nursery, announcing that Mr Dowling was in the vehicle that would take them to the park. Harriet thanked him, smiling one last time at her son's caretaker. The guard grabbed the stroller and things that Harriet couldn't carry, mainly the stroller and nappy bag. Harriet carried Warlock in his carrier and the milk bag.

"Have a good day, miss."

* * *

If one had asked Brother Francis how he felt about eating a cucumber-watercress sandwich while sitting next to Nanny Ashtoreth, out in the garden and sitting on a bench, he would have said that he had missed her horribly. Her sharp jaws and softened cheekbones that just barely lessened the sharp lines of her face; everything about her held the beauty of a snake, slender and agile, cunning and silver-tongued.

Nanny was talking about something concerning the taste of the wine that he had made for her.

"It was sweet but the alcohol was actually quite strong. Did you do that?"

"I did just a little bit." The butter on Brother Francis' tongue took on the slight taste of sugar, and the cucumber only grew more delectable in his mouth. "Was it to your liking, my dear?"

"Yes, it was-" Nanny took a sip of the coffee that she had brought out with her, "-invigorating."

"I'm glad."

"Do these days ever seem long to you?"

Brother Francis thought on that. "No, everything feels as it normally does to me. Do these days seem long?"

"... Sometimes."

"Well, you're the one most often with Warlock," Brother Francis reasoned, "even more than his own parents."

All at once, Brother Francis could see how tired Nanny Ashtoreth seemed. Her shoulders, usually so relaxed and nonchalant, sagged with the weight of the world. Her sunglasses were slipping down, her golden eyes somewhat visible. Her lipstick was just a bit smudged, and Brother Francis knew how she loved to look as fashionable and in place as any model in an edited magazine could.

"Dear, are you all right?"

Nanny turned her face to him, slightly - enough that their gazes could begin to meet.

"Just tired." Nanny did take off her sunglasses, her serpentine eyes looking at Brother Francis with a glazed, apathetic gaze. There, Brother Francis saw that she was...

Upset.

"What's wrong, Crowley?" He said it gently, pulling away the illusion that they were currently entertaining. Now, he stayed still as Crowley placed her forehead on his shoulder, hiding her face again.

"It's so hard..."

"What is, my dear?"

They were both whispering, as though if they were too loud, the Dowling Family would return and they would be separated again, by their duties.

"... I... Don't you dare tell anyone." Those golden, reptilian eyes glared into his own, Crowley having so much power that she didn't even realise.

"Who would I tell, Crowley?"

"Maybe Gabriel?"

"Hardly."

Crowley sighed, reaching up and pulling out the pins that kept her hair up. Down below her shoulder ringlets and waves came, a curtain of red to create a frame about her face.

"You know that... I'm different."

"Yes, you are almost too ni-"

Crowley let out a hiss.

"-I mean. You are certainly tolerable."

"You know how I care for my plants?"

"Yes, by yelling mainly."

"But I c-care." The word broke on a bifurcated human tongue that could smell the very air that they were inhaling now, even though they didn't need to breathe. Crowley's eyes were crazed and sad. "I care, and I don't know if I..."

"If you what, Crowley?"

"Aziraphale..."

"It's not wrong to care about Warlock, my dear," the angel murmured. Aziraphale reached down and grabbed Crowley's hand in his own. They both ignored how perfectly they seemed to be interlacing. "He's a baby, small and helpless. I still remember... When the Almighty said that only Noah and his family would live-"

"That's still bloody awful."

"-You were so upset for the children."

With that, Crowley gripped Aziraphale's hand tightly, painfully so. Their fingers were hurting but nothing hurt Aziraphale more than Crowley's haunted eyes. After a few moments, Crowley asked Aziraphale for a favor, to which the angel did comply.

"Just rest, Crowley."

There, Brother Francis stayed, the head of his Beloved Nanny in his lap, the image of the kindest friend. If he had caressed her cheekbone, her hair, her brow, he'd deny it.

* * *

Raphael was lying in the grass, her hair spread out on the grass. Red against green; it would look lovely in the stars. She watched as Sister Sun's light came through the leaves, the translucent green panes overlapping each other and creating lovely shadows of different shapes.

She thought to Mother and what She had told her. She was determined for the youngest Archangel to fulfill her purpose, for her to become the healer that She had made her to be. How it was going to happen, she had no idea.

"Raphael?"

Her blue-gold eyes looked over and there was Lucifer, standing over her.

"Luci."

"Are you all right?" Lucifer sat by their youngest sibling, helping Raphael sit up so that she could put her head on their lap. The oldest Archangel began to comb their fingers through Raphael's hair, carefully untangling some of those lovely curls that Jegudial had made so carefully when he had been making Raphael's corporation. "Did you talk with Mother?"

"I did."

"Did... Did She answer any of your questions?" 

Raphael bit her lip. She tried to close her eyes, avoid the piercing light of her oldest sibling into her mind.

"Raph?"

"Luci, I don't want to talk, just not right now." Raphael turned and curled around her sibling, her forehead against their abdomen. The grace of Mother...

"You're tired?"

"Yes," Raphael confessed. "Is this what it's like? To talk with Her?"

"Yes, it is. She is more powerful than anyone of us could understand, as are Her words." Lucifer bent down and pressed a kiss to Raphael's forehead. The motion of affection made Raphael want to cry. "It's okay, Raph. It's not our place to understand Her."

"But we understand pain. We're hurting and She's okay with that."

"... It's part of Her Plan. We'll hear all of it in time, little one."

Raphael didn't speak. She was the first one to cry in Eden, in Time itself, and still, Mother didn't explain why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 Nanny had done a lot of research in the time that she was preparing for this assignment, caring for Warlock Dowling. She had looked online and found that infants were rather finicky Creatures. They had schedules, proper ways to feed them, and they were so fragile. It was only lucky that Nanny could determine how much Warlock drank from her breasts, down to the milliliter. This was recorded, though.


	8. In the Streamlets

"Aah..." From a certain spot on his play mat20, Warlock reached towards his beloved Nanny, little hands wanting to tangle themselves in her red hair. 

"What, baby?" Nanny Ashtoreth had stood to get the child's bag of nappies to restock his care-bag. She turned around, smiling to see her charge reaching out to her. "Do you want me to pick you up? I have to get you ready so we can go to the park."

"Aah!" Warlock furrowed his little brows, wanting to be picked up. Nanny could tell what her little lord wanted, but he did need to learn obedience and patience; someone knows how his Satanic Father would feel should little Warlock be rebellious. However, Nanny just hastened her movements, hesitant to use any miracles that would alert any other... colleagues of hers to her location. A few more nappies, a little romper, socks, and they'd be done.

"Warlock, just a moment, dear." One last zipper, and- Done! Nanny turned around, and she was surprised to see the baby on all fours and much closer than before.

"Nah!" Warlock crawled forward, making it to his Nanny's skirts and gripping them tightly with his eager hand. He gave her a pout, his eyes glaring up at her with the cutest frustration. His other hand was reaching up to Nanny, opening and closing in a way that Nanny knew was for deep interest. Nanny, however, didn't focus on his desire.

Tovia picked up the baby, staying low to the floor and holding the baby close. Some of her hair was pulled from its proper hairstyle, and he was able to pull some of Tovia's hair out, long strands that didn't truly hurt when pulled. Warlock pressed his face to hers, his mouth against her nose, chin, and mouth in the cutest attempts at a kiss. Tovia had kissed his cheeks and forehead so many times, amazingly enough that she was surprised that he hadn't done so before.

"Baby," she whispered, in the voice that she only used when they were alone, just Warlock and Tovia...

Warlock and Crowley.

Warlock was wiggling against her, pulling her close and trying to keep her there.

"Na-na!"21 Warlock cried, and soon Crowley was kissing her charge's sweet, plump cheeks - ones that she had made chubby with the milk from her body. It was almost as if-

"Don't- Don't do that."

"Nana!" Warlock gave her a smile, as he'd been able to do for a while now, and it twisted Crowley's heart. It made her-

"Please... Baby, no." This was one thing that Crowley couldn't have. She wouldn't allow it.

Warlock gave her another kiss.

She cracked.

She cried.

* * *

Harriet was so happy when Warlock was babbling at her. He called her "Tata" because "Mama" was still so hard to say. Tad was sure that Warlock was trying to say Thaddeus, but one look from Warlock made him hesitate. Warlock called out to "Tata" and Tad said that when Warlock could say "Papa," he'd have his moment.

It happened one night, when Harriet was on her way to bed and she'd already big a good night to her staff, husband, and baby; she went down to the kitchen to make herself some tea. The maid and butler were already asleep, there'd be no sense waking them. On her way past the nursery the first time, Harriet could hear Tovia talking with Warlock, the tender light of his shadow box displaying interesting shapes on the wall. He'd be sleeping soon, with all of the lullabies and stories that Tovia told him.

"Maybe we can have a day for the three of us, just women-and-a-baby day," she murmured, letting the dry leaves open in the just-boiling water in her mug. She could see them in the tea steeper through its upper opening, swimming in the water. Harriet and Tovia could shop for clothes, make-up, and anything that they would desire22.

Harriet hummed as she took out the steeper, setting it on a specified bowl. Perhaps she'd go check on Tovia and Warlock, just in case they needed something. As she came close to the nursery, her cup of tea in hand, Harriet could hear Tovia speaking. She came close to the door, her ear to the space at that doorway.

> _Then came the Holy One blessed be He_  
>  _And slaughtered the Angel of Death_

Harriet didn't understand what was being sung, some foreign song, but it seemed to be longing. As she peeked through the crack in the doorway, she could see Tovia cradling Warlock, the crib adjusted to allow for easy adjustment of the baby back into bed. It seemed like Tovia was about to set Warlock down before she had decided to do something else.

"Nana!"

Harriet almost spilled her tea. She had never heard Warlock call for Tovia; the Nanny always seemed to come right away before the baby found the need to call for her. Tovia was able to foretell every need of Warlock, the boy often would look for her and then would look at her when she would have already picked him up. Here, Warlock called for Nana with all the happiness of Warlock calling for his mother... if only more pressingly.

"Shh, love. You need to sleep."

"Nana," Warlock seemed to pout.

"No, baby." Tovia jostled the baby gently, laying him back in his crib. Warlock whined, whimpering and reaching up. "You need to sleep. I'll come feed you when it's time."

Harriet knocked, walking in slowly. "Is everything okay, Tovia?"

Dark lenses looked at her, and those facial features seemed embarrassed, unnerved.

"Yes, Mrs Dowling-"

"You can call me Harriet."

"-Warlock just wanted to keep playing, and his nap earlier must have given him a bit too much energy. He's starting to get tired now, and I'm rather not have to deal with a cranky baby." Warlock whined, making his defiant presence known. Tovia turned back to him, cooing and rubbing his belly. After a moment, Tovia turned to Harriet. "Did you need something else, ma'am?"

"... I guess not. Just wanted to make sure that you're both doing okay," Harriet said, lowly to not excite her son more.

"All right..." Tovia whispered, and soon, she moved away. Warlock finally was asleep. "I'll go retire to my room then."

"Oh," Harriet whispered, jumping a bit at the abrupt answer. "So will I. Tovy, would you want to go out some day? With me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just a day to relax."

Tovia stared at her and then turned her head towards the crib.

"I... I would rather not." Harriet watched as Tovia reached up to grab her pendant, fingers moving over it in a nervous display. "I'm fine taking care of you and Warlock, my dear."

Harriet smiled, leaving through the doorway as she spoke. "Let me know when you want to have a girls' day out. You deserve it."

"Thank you."

Harriet smiled. She'd wear down Tovia just yet.

* * *

Raphael had a wolf pup in her lap. She played with the pup's paws, enjoying the soft pads on the bottom of its feet. The pup yipped at her, licking at her face when she did something particularly affectionate, like scratching the space just behind the love little Creature's ears. The parents of the litter of pups were happy to leave their offspring with Mother's youngest Archangel, giving Raphael licks to her cheeks before wandering in the vast Garden.

Raphael looked at her plants that were blooming just outside of where the soles of her feet made contact with the ground. Yellow blooms* had sprouted at her feet, their leaves tickling her toes. They reached up toward Sister Sun.

Raphael reached upward as well. Her fingers were warmed quickly. The pup learnt up to smell her hand, curious, but the Creature tumbled our of Raphael's lap.

It yelped.

Uncontrollable the urge and too painful to resist - the pup was scooped up into Raphael's arms, her body curled around it protectively. Her eyes went over the infant Creature, looking for any sign of Pain, of Hurt.

Injury.

The pup thought it a game, not understanding that Raphael's blue-gold eyes were frantic, not excited. Fingers and paws almost entangled, but Raphael persisted, looking through fur and the pup's confused noises.

"Brother?"

Raphael looked up. There they were.

"Aziraphale?"

"Are you all right? You seem... distressed." Aziraphale sounded uncomfortable when saying the word; bad things did not happen in the Almighty's Garden, and the Archangels always kept everything in order as to keep it that way.

"I'm just... examining this little Creature, Aziraphale." Raphael let the pup go.23 "Will you be getting a Corporation soon, Angel?"

"Soon! Jegudiel says that mine will be different than the others."

"All of us are different."

"Really?" Aziraphale let out a burst of excited light, something that made Raphael smile and reach out to her favorite sibling. "I can't see anything yet. I can only feel."

"Truly?" Raphael could perceive colours before her Corporation. That's how she could find all of her siblings. Gabriel was bright violet; Michael was a burning green; every sibling a different colour of the spectrum of light that Mother had created. They could even see heat and other amazing things, and they saw the Stars differently than the younger Angels. "Well, do you know what Light is?"

"Yes."

"Well, imagine the Light getting longer and shorter. The shorter it is, the hotter it looks. The longer, the cooler it is."

"So... Sister Sun's Light looks shorter?"

"Just so," Raphael praised. "Some of the Light isn't visible all the time. Sometimes, it's just heat. I can see that. I know that Gabriel can't."

Aziraphale hummed as he often did when he was listening to Raphael carefully. Raphael went on to explain how everything looked, the colours involved therein. She cradled the young Principality in her arms, cooing and explaining anything that she could, because she wanted Aziraphale to be able to know things, to really Know. She wanted her darling Angel to be able to enjoy everything their Mother had Created.

Never Hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 Harriet Dowling had bought a play mat of the different countries of the world. Nanny Ashtoreth had taken to telling Warlock different stories from around the world; there was nothing eluding her anthology of tales. She told him of the dreaded Tengu of Japan, the Celtic Revenants, and even of the different Lords of Hell. She didn't read any of these stories, but she always loved listening to people telling stories, being creative with their environment.
> 
> 21 It was this moment that Nanny realised that not all babies spoke and crawled at the same time, but a certain human author could recall that their youngest sibling had done such a thing.
> 
> 22 Harriet had noted on occasion that Tovia Ashtoreth was rather beautiful, in the way that marble statues are beautiful; strong, hard, and shaped into the most creative and lovely of features - one could hardly believe that they exist, that Tovia Ashtoreth existed.
> 
> 23 The pup would look for Raphael later, ready to comfort the Archangel when it could.


	9. In the Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there! If anyone has an idea for a story or would like a commission, just let me know. :)

"Nana!"

"Come on, little one."

Brother Francis was tending to the little slugs that had gotten their way into a patch of tomatoes that he'd been trying to grow. He moved them over to a space where nothing was growing save for the grass and a few yellow blooms, daring to come up against the cold air.

"There you go, dear."

He walked over to where he heard the voice of his dear Nanny Ashtoreth. On a knitted blanket, Nanny was sitting, watching Warlock on his hands and knees. The baby was looking up to her.

"Nana!"

"Come on, baby." Nanny cooed and tried to have the child approach her. Brother Francis watched as Warlock began to crawl to Nanny, his movements a bit stilted but sure of themselves. Warlock made noises and called out "Nana" as he got closer to her.

As he reached her skirts, Warlock was scooped up into Nanny's arms and given kisses on his cheeks. The baby let out a peal of laughter, enough that Brother Francis could feel Love just pouring out of the child for his Nanny. Nanny herself was laughing along with the baby, kissing his cheeks and hands, anything that she could reach.

Brother Francis felt a pain rise in his chest, only for the beauty of the Nanny that sat here in the garden. He wanted to get close, to come close - he could feel Love coming from somewhere else. It was so close to Divinity that Brother Francis could feel his inner Light desire to glow in response.

"Ah!" Brother Francis saw Warlock turn his head, spotting the humble gardener. Nanny followed the infant's line of sight, spotting the Angel who had been spying on them. Her glasses slid down enough to show her thin pupils.

Brother Francis held up his hands, showing that he had nothing that could threaten Nanny or Warlock but his work-gloves. Nanny sighed, waving him to come closer.

"Hello, my dear. Hello, little Warlock."

"Hello... Angel." Aziraphale smiled, coming closer and sitting next to Crowley. He watched Crowley adjust the grip on Warlock, setting the baby down to have him sit up. At a glance, it would appear that all three of them were conversing together, if that one of them couldn't really speak yet.

"How are you doing, Crowley? Did you manage to rest the other day?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"Nana..." Warlock moved onto his knees, trying to get in Crowley's lap. He whined in his throat, his fists tightening their grip in the black skirt. Crowley grabbed Warlock's hands, playing with the baby. The baby stared at their hands, mesmerized by the fact that their hands were patting and pawing at each other.

"What do you want, dear?" Crowley cooed. Warlock babbled noises that surely meant something but not all adults could understand. Aziraphale and Crowley, however, had no issues with this, as it was the intent that was important. The baby was babbling about Crowley and being outside. He was getting hungry.

"I could leave, Crowley." Aziraphale made his way to stand, but Crowley's hand laid itself on his arm. Aziraphale looked to Crowley, trying to discern what the demon wanted.

"... Did..." Crowley let Aziraphale go. "You can go."

"Did you want me to... watch, Crowley?" Aziraphale said it softly, knowing that Crowley wouldn't say it.

"If you'd like." Crowley unbuttoned the blouse, to which Warlock stared at with interest. His hunger sparked again, and both beings knew that Warlock understood part of what was happening. When Aziraphale saw Crowley's breasts, he looked away for just a moment, trying to give his associate (friend, Creature, beauty) a bit of privacy.

"Here you are, Warlock. Eat." Aziraphale heard the sound of a tiny mouth open and then the softest breathing, rhythmic and natural. "Angel, if you want."

Aziraphale turned and kept his gaze high, meeting Crowley's gold, serpentine eyes. Crowley bowed a bit, looking at Warlock, and Aziraphale looked down as well.

No brassiere in sight, and Warlock was greedily eating, drinking the milk of Crowley's swollen breast. Oh, it was surely swollen, for Aziraphale had never seen Crowley in this shape. He'd seen Crowley in female-assigned clothing before, but he had never seen a side to Crowley that was soft and welcoming. The demon was often luring in victims and the easily tempted with a forked silver tongue and the sharp movements of the most seductive predator in existence. The Crowley that Aziraphale knew was not this soft Creature that cooed to Warlock, minding every whine from the child and holding Warlock like it could be one of them, an Angel or one of the Fallen.

Warlock's lips were almost completely hidden by the demon's breast, his little jaw moving quickly and rhythmically. His little fingers pressed into Crowley, holding onto the demon for all that he could. Love flowed from the baby towards Crowley, and Aziraphale could feel...

"Crowley?"

"Yes, Angel?" Crowley didn't look up from Warlock at all, only moving to stroke Warlock's cheek with the side of a slender finger.

"You are lovely, my dear." Aziraphale kept his voice low, only audible to the three of them. He slowly raised a hand, and when Crowley didn't move away, he began to caress the top of Warlock's head, where the baby's hair was getting thick and beautiful. Aziraphale dragged his fingers down to Crowley's fingers, where they continued to caress Warlock's soft cheek.

"Am I, Angel?" Crowley shifted the grip on Warlock, fingers soon able to stroke Aziraphale's fingers as well. They began to do just that. Somehow their fingers were no longer touching Warlock, their fingers entangled as it was not just Crowley nurturing the child, feeding the child; Aziraphale let Warlock's Love wrap around them, letting out a bit of his own Light to make sure that Crowley felt it too.

Crowley let out a shuddering breath, pulling Warlock closer, shifting towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale felt Crowley's head on his shoulder.

They stayed like that, Crowley feeding this little child that Aziraphale was quietly trying to influence to be distant from Crowley's influences, even if the demon was switching breasts and leaning further into Aziraphale.

Their finger grip became tighter, but no one knew who started it.

* * *

Raphael sat at his supplies on the worktable. His were going to start working on a Star, the special one as a gift to Gabriel.

Raphael has seen the Souls of Angels once. When Jegudiel had been given his first task, to create Corporations, all of the Archangels had looked upon his materials. All of them got to see what they would work with. The light of Stars was so much like the Light of Creation, but they burnt differently.

Raphael let the kiln warm the Star again, readying it for its final processes; Gabriel's gift would soon be ready to join its fellow Wanderers in the Universe. Soon, the Wanderer would grace the Sky with the colour of their older brother's eyes. Of course, it wouldn't reflect the gold flecks of Divinity that all of their Corporations had, but it would be lovely all the same.

The gases began to take full shape, the Elements that Raphael had added making the violet stain the gases and-

"That looks lovely, Raph."

Raphael looked up, smiling as Lucifer came to stand and watch over his shoulder. "I hope that I won't ruin your work."

"Not at all," Raphael reassured the oldest Archangel. Turning his attention back to the Star, Raphael noticed that it had gained a dark spot, hardly noticeable, where it had not been heated as well as the rest of it; Raphael thought it was perfect.

Lucifer stepped back as Raphael ordered him out of the way. The Star now sat in the kiln, ready to finish in its Creation and light up the Universe. Raphael always smiled at Lucifer when they were alone.

"What can I do for you, Luci?"

"Haniel spoke with Jegudiel" Lucifer explained, "Aziraphale - whose name I just learnt; how kind to have one to cover your duties later - mentioned that you had seemed to be in distress when playing with one of Mother's Creatures."

Raphael let out a sigh, ignoring the distress in his lower belly. "One of the wolf pups fell. It yelled... I thought that it was Hurt."

"No one besides us knows what Hurt is, Raph." Lucifer came close, cradling Raphael's face and pressing their foreheads together. Their gazes met. For a moment, blue and red light met, a spectrum of colour coming from them both. It would effect the kiln, the ice-like heat of Lucifer and the Creative energies of Raphael,24and Raphael closed his eyes, just to make sure that Gabriel's present was fine. He remembered the little pup crying out and his immediate fear of the pup being damaged- disfigured- injured- Hurt- in Pain. He could feel Lucifer's Light curl around him, trying to contain him well and safe.

They had never had to think about Safety before.

"Why?"

"It's part of Mother's Plan, little one." Lucifer pressed a kiss to Raphael's forehead. Something...

Raphael stepped out of Lucifer's hold.

Something was wrong.

"Raph?"

"Lucy..." Raphael turned to the kiln. "My gift to Gabriel!"

Lucifer stepped out of the way, Raphael rushing to the kiln and pulling out the beautiful Wanderer that would rain jewels and the knowledge that Gabriel always had. Oh, he would have to create a moon just for the beauty of this little Wanderer.

"Lucy, is it okay if I-?"

"Of course, Raphael," Lucifer said as he watched Raphael place the Wanderer back on his table, just to make a few last minute aesthetic choices. "If you do need anything, little one, come find me. You know where I am."

Raphael smiled, eyes sparkling. "Of course. Everyone feels you, all the time. Your Light is always warm."

Lucifer smiled, and he left, wings outreaching and wide - they were all powerful.

Raphael closed his eyes, finishing the last details on Gabriel's Star. He let out the breath that he never needed to hold.

Lucifer's Light was cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 24 It would create an atmosphere on the Wanderer Star, one that made it rain diamonds of raw beauty and Creation.


	10. In the Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there! If anyone has an idea for a story or would like a commission, just let me know. :)
> 
> Also, I've been away due to work, getting a new job, preparation for moving away from my mother and residential area for the last 17 years, my mental health, and my sister going away to University. ;-;

It was already springtime.

"You should put them somewhere else, if you're not going to get rid of them."

Aziraphale looked up.

"... Crowley?"

Crowley crouched down, eyes still hidden behind his dark sunglasses. He was holding onto Warlock, whose chubby hands reached out to the slug with a curious fascination. He adjusted his skirts and proceeded to watch Aziraphale's hands, playing with Warlock's hands as he moved.

"You know that slugs and snails eat the plants, right?"

Aziraphale nodded, moving to explain, but Crowley held up a finger.

"If you don't want to get rid of the slugs, by killing them, put them somewhere else." Crowley scowled down at the slug that was squirming closer to him. "Maybe by a pond or something."

"My dear, I'm sure that it would be all right to leave-"

"And perhaps you could show Warlock the proper places for Creatures to live so that they don't damage the garden that his parents enjoy so much." With that, Crowley picked up the slug between his thumb and forefinger, sneering at the little Creature. Warlock reached up, trying to snatch the Creature. With any luck, the baby would put it in his mouth.

"Please," Aziraphale pleaded. The slug disappeared, and Crowley was wiping off his fingers.

"Calm down, Angel. I just put it in a forest... Away from here." With that, Crowley adjusted his hat, making sure that the Sun's rays did not hit a wide area of his face. 

"Thank you." Aziraphale came forward, moving to stand. However, Crowley waved him down. "Crowley?"

"Just do your task, Angel." Warlock pretended to babble at Aziraphale the same way, almost scolding the Angel. Aziraphale hoped that Warlock wouldn't pick up many of Crowley's bad habits. He didn't want them too ingrained that he couldn't teach Warlock decency.

"Is he... Is he talking yet?"

"No, not real words. Some names, yes."

Aziraphale smiled. "Really? Does he call for his mother?"

"... Yes."

"And his father, surely-" Aziraphale bit his lip as he softly said, "though he isn't around often."

"You're right." Crowley turned the baby so that Warlock could sit in his lap, his skirts a layer of padding under the baby's rump. "But he still remembers well. Do you remember your father, Warlock-dear?"

"Papapa!"

"And your mother?"

Warlock looked pensive. He turned his head about, looking. "Tata?"

"You're learning, little one." Crowley chuckled darkly. "Maybe we'll teach you how to order your servants about, next. You'll have to make them break under boot should they not obey you."

Aziraphale sighed, groaning and sinking his fingers into the wet soil. He almost spoke up, but he heard the baby speak.

"Nana!" Warlock reached up to Crowley, who helped the nine-month-old stand on his thighs. Warlock reached for Crowley with greedy fingers. "Nana..."

"Is- Is he asking for you?"

"Yes." Crowley rubbed his thumb across Warlock's cheek, marveling at the giggles and the repeated babble of "Nana" that the baby let out in bright bursts of happiness that the Angel and Demon could feel. "He's done that for about two month now."

"Do... Do you continue to feed him?"

"Of course." To perform a proof, it seemed, Warlock reached forward, grabbing for Crowley's chest. A small whine from his stomach arose. "Really, little one?"

Warlock stared up at his nanny with wide, beautiful eyes and an innocent aura of hunger coming from him. Crowley moved to stand, to hide away inside and feed the baby, but Aziraphale cleared his throat.

"You... Do you need another blanket, my dear Nanny? You shouldn't keep Warlock waiting."

Crowley gave Aziraphale a glare, ready to cut down the Angel. A stuttering movement by the demon was all that stopped Crowley, and the Angel miracled a blanket for Crowley and the baby as Crowley quickly began to unbutton the front of her blouse.

"Calm yourself, my dear." Crowley tried to calm down Warlock, rubbing his belly to calm him. Aziraphale could feel Crowley doing something to the baby, calming him somehow, and soon, the babe was brought to nurse upon Crowley's breast. Warlock nursed, drinking in a way that made Aziraphale wonder if he was just worried of Crowley's attention going elsewhere. Crowley seemed to make the same conclusion as he chided at the child. Warlock continued to suckle, but both Creatures could feel the love that Warlock had for Nanny, that he wanted her affection.

"Does he feel like that often?"

"I find that it happens more often now... But you know that we can't stay for-ever." Crowley looked over to the Angel, who nodded in agreement. They had a task, and they would perform it well.

Soon, Warlock was done, but Crowley continued to cradle him close. Soon the baby fell asleep, comfortable to be lying in the Demon's skirts.

"I think we'll go inside, Angel. Let me know if you need anymore help with the plants." Crowley soon buttoned his blouse and was well on his way to walk when he willed the blanket into a folded manner and offered it to Aziraphale. "Here you are, Angel."

"What should I do with it, my dear?"

"Whatever you wish."

Aziraphale took it from Crowley. Somehow, their fingers brushed, and Aziraphale found himself wondering how he found Crowley so lovely... and...

"Are you ill, Crowley? You feel... weaker than you normally feel."

"... I've spent so much time in this body. I think I'll be a serpent again soon."

Aziraphale let out a low noise in his throat. It happened on occasion, the times when Crowley would be left as a serpent. He was almost defenseless in this state when his body would forcibly change, if a certain time in Egypt had taught him anything. 

"Is this why you look so tired?"

"It happens sometimes. Snakes shed a layer of skin when they are growing. I'm not growing, not really, but Time passes and I am a serpent at heart." Crowley sighed, a tension in his shoulders somewhat released due to fatigue.

It made Aziraphale shudder slightly in response. He had never suffered any of the maladies or conditions that Crowley had experienced, being serpentine. He never craved to be sleeping in his bed or had been craving the sight of the colours that had been burnt away from his sight. He had no features of the God-made Creature that he found his wings resembled, save for their shape.25

Aziraphale wished Crowley good luck, and that the demon could call him if he needed assistance! Crowley gave a grunt of acknowledgement before turning away, Warlock safely cradled in his arms. Aziraphale stared after him.26

* * *

Raphael could feel guilt blooming in her chest. She felt shame, and it was for deceiving her eldest brother. Lucifer's Light had been Cold. He was distant, something that she had never felt before when thinking of her brother. She had said that he felt warm, like the Sister Sun that he had Created to praise their Mother. 

She had spoken falsely, a Lie.

Raphael felt a discomfort for her brother that she had never experienced before. Since their Creation, especially her own, Raphael had all of her siblings' Lights connected to her. To feel that kind of disconnection, it was...

"Raphael, are you all right?"

Raphael looked over her shoulder. The young Angel, Samael, was coming from the East. He was to follow Lucifer's place in guiding Sister Sun.

What would Lucifer do afterward?

"Yes, Samael." Raphael came close and pressed a kiss to Samael's forehead. He was a beautiful young Angel, already in a Corporation that reflected that.

Why was she doing this?

"May I speak with you, Raphael?"

"Of course," Raphael cooed, patting the stone beside her on her perch on the Eastern Wall of Eden. Samael sat down, wings close against his back. He was one of the Angels that always kept his wings out. On his waist, he had a bag of thistle blossoms and seeds.

"My teacher is seeming so distant lately." Samael began to pluck petals from a thistle, gently suckling the sweet nectar from the soft plant. "He has been flying past the Stars."

"... Past them?" Raphael searched her mind for what could be there. There were some points of their Creation, where she and each of her Siblings had been made, out in the Universe. "Perhaps... Perhaps he was going towards his Creation place."

"That..." Samael ate some of the thistle seeds, offering Raphael some, who took them gratefully. "That sounds right. He seemed to be flying that way."

Mother had Created each of the Archangels in a specific part of the Universe. Raphael had been Created in what Mother had called Raquia, and it was called the End of the Heavens by the younger Angels. Lucifer's place of Creation was considered the first, but it was a name that every Archangel kept close to themselves, a secret between themselves and Mother.

Perhaps Lucifer was trying to reach Mother more frequently through there.

Raphael watched as Samael nodded, sighing and eating the rest of the seeds by placing them all in his mouth. Raphael spread her arm, and Samael took the invitation to lay his head on Raphael's lap.

"The Almighty invited me to create some more plants, trees. Is that all right with you?"

Raphael smiled. "Of course. Come with me."

The two Angels walked in the Garden, occasionally stopping so that Samael could see the plants that Raphael had made.

"What is that?"

"Moon-flower, for Gabriel."

"And this?"

"Spider-lily. I thought it would look nice."

"That's it? That's your reason for making it?" Samael frowned. "Shouldn't things have a purpose?"

"Not always," Raphael chided. "I made the Stars to Create something for everyone. Sometimes, Creations are for enjoyment or beauty. Do you think it wrong?"

"... No." Raphael patted his head, coddling and petting her younger sibling. Lucifer had raised Samael into such power that he might just be able to take all of Lucifer's task. Raphael kept remembering how powerful her oldest brother was, powerful enough to take on all of the responsibilities that the Morning Star-Bringer had inherited directly from Mother.

Sometimes, Raphael would notice how angry Samael would get, in his loneliness. Lucifer had taught him so well, Samael was able to guide the Sister Sun without any work from his own Corporation. He had set the Sister Sun to move on her own accord. His wings only stretched out now to attend at Lucifer's side and perform other duties, such as holding the revealing Light of Mother in his hands.

"Are you lonely, Samael?"

"I don't understand how... All of You, the Seven, have this connection to each other. You always know where the Light of each other is. How do you know what my Loneliness is?"

Raphael kissed his forehead. "Samael, we all know what Loneliness is. It's something that we are all getting used to. We all have our tasks. Artiya'il so often is crying over the pain that the new animals have been experiencing. He often does not come to speak with us, my dear, and Cassiel is usually the one that finds him dozing somewhere when he has wasted enough energy."

"Dozing?"

"When the humans lay down to rest for the next day. They fall asleep. We can fall into a similar state, a light sleep. A doze."

Samael groaned, coming to a small clearing, very close to the middle of the Garden. "Do you get lonely, Raphael?"

"Yes."

"Who makes you less lonely?"

Immediately, Raphael's mind turned to Aziraphale, but he also thought of something that he had been doing since Aziraphale had been taken away by Jegudiel days ago.

"My students."

"Who else? Or is that all?"

"No. Let me show you something."

Samael must have been confused when suddenly, beside him, no-one was there.

"Raphael?!"

" _Look down, dear Samael._ "

Samael looked, and there was one of their Mother's Creatures. There sat a large serpent, almost too big for Samael to correlate with the other Creatures that Gabriel and Sandalphon had made in the Seven Days of Creation. The serpent, the colour of the darkest sky, had a bright red belly, the colour of flame. Samael bent down, examining the Creature.

"Brother?"

Raphael nodded her serpentine head, shaking off the discomfort in title, leaving it to the strangeness of it. " _I've been wandering the Garden like this. I found some of the animals, and I saw that my wings matched the Ibis and the Raven. I went over to the serpents, and I saw a beautiful black one that matched my wings. She had this lovely sleek body. My power does not let me be as small as she is, and my hair colour comes through on my belly._ "

Samael smiled, staying low and petting Raphael's scales. "Do you do this often?"

" _When I have the time, and when I want to sit here, just to appreciate what we all took part in making. The animals here are instinctual and graceful. Is it not nice to admire the beauty, my dear? We can also find out how to make things better this way, by observing._ "

"... You're right." Samael smiled. "Does anyone else know of this?"

" _Only you, Samael. Don't tell the others; they might get envious._ "

"Why?"

" _I guard and tend to the Garden. They have much more labourious tasks then I do. They might think that I'm playing too much._ " Raphael raised her head, flicking her tongue at Samael's nose. The younger Angel let out a giggle and nodded.

"... I think... I know what kind of Tree I wish to Create, Raphael. I may need your help, though."

Raphael rested her snoot in the palm of Samael's hand. " _Of course, Samael. Whatever you need, I can help with. Just let Lucifer know that you may be with me for a while._ "

In the day following their conversation, Pahaliah would recall Samael, pupil of Lucifer, talking with a large serpent that she had never seen before. Its dark black body would curl close to Samael, as though attempting to reassure him of something.

Raphael had excused themselves to be with Samael as well, creating some plants that the Almighty had desired. Artiya'il would recall one of Samael's plants fondly, a small berry producing plant that could lull one to sleepiness. Artiya'il found that he was using it for the small animals and younger Angels that were too restless in their behaviour, making them require rest.

Cassiel would remember Samael and Raphael heating up some water - with fire from Raphael's kiln, no less! - and dropping some dried blossoms of a flower that Samael had Created. It became an infusion that smelled so nice that Cassiel could find himself relaxing. The pain that Cassiel could see in the future of Mother's Creations - sadness, loss, loneliness, and something called INJURY, which he was trying to understand - was lessened, and he began to turn his tears into something more proactive, accompanying Artiya'il to talk with their siblings of their observations and worries. His tears would run for them, but they no longer left him in exhaustion.

Lucifer, however, was most impressed by the Tree that Samael and Raphael had Created. He Blessed it, smiling as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25: Crowley would argue with that statement. The Mourning Dove and Aziraphale had many similarities, from the desire to possess pre-owned articles of interest and searched for delicious treats. Both also displayed their enjoyment of their meals with a passion that Crowley could only stop and gawk at.
> 
> 26 It never occurred to Aziraphale that he had ever seen Crowley's wings.


	11. In the Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter. I love you all.
> 
> Unbetaed because I will go down with my Creation if I must.

Brother Francis had the experience of being invited to and being present for baptisms before. The idea that an infant could commit a grievous sin was always something of a debate among the Angels, if for the simple fact that Humanity's choices are what ultimately led to their own Fall in the first place. However, he always found Humans to be quiet cute when they were born. Out of the mess of screaming, bleeding, and sometimes Death, a tiny little Creature of the Almighty would come into the world, and they could Love all of what She had Created. Perhaps a little dip in Holy Water was nothing to worry about, truly.

However, this was frightening.

He had come just to see how Tovia Ashtoreth was doing. Harriet Dowling had taken Warlock for a doctor’s appointment. Francis had found the most beautiful flowers and wanted to get them in a nice arrangement to give to Mrs Dowling. She was progressing so well with her bonding with Warlock. The woman had stopped producing milk, but Tovia was working very hard and well to make sure that the baby was full, growing, and satisfied, leaving much time for the mother and son to bond. Harriet made many accommodations to compensate for this, having desserts filled with dates, yoghurt, and many savory sweets that Tovia could choose to snack on as she wished. They were the only desserts that Brother Francis ever saw grace the mouth of his friend, aside from things that could go well with coffee.27

He could hear Queen playing from somewhere in the house. Mr Dowling rarely played Queen, and only during American football games would he sing along. The butler and other servants had some free time, and so the house was rather empty. Only Brother Francis and Tovia Ashtoreth were around at the moment, tending to the beautiful house and its precious treasures from Creation.

He followed the music, knowing that he’d likely find the demon that he was looking for where it was loudest. The dark energy of his dear associate was recognizable and familiar. Soon, he came to a closed door, the door hardly dulling the sharpness and clarity of Freddie Mercury singing. He knocked, but no-one came.

Carefully, he intruded, realising after a moment that he had come upon Tovia's bedroom. It was not decorated in the traditional sense. There were only little touches here and there: a coffee mug that was clean, ready for another beverage to be poured inside; several CDs that appeared to be new and had not yet become Queen CDs; several pairs of shoes; and a wardrobe that was certainly filled with stylish clothes that were suitable for the austere type of nanny that Tovia seemed to embody.

The music came from the bathroom, the wood of the door hardly impeding Freddie's voice. Brother Francis knocked on the door. The air around it seemed... moist. 

"Miss Ashtoreth!"

" _God knows..."_

"Tovia?" The doorknob refused to turn.

" _God knows I want to break free_ ," Freddie replied.

"Crowley? Crowley!"

The music stopped, and there was nothing, save for the splashing of water.

Brother Francis looked to the bedroom door. He could hear the lock click into place. At the same time, through the same minor miracle, he found that the bathroom lock had come away, relenting and letting the Angel in.

Aziraphale opened the door, surprised by the amount of steam that had built up in the room. With a wave of his hand, the vapor swished away, following the pattern that his hand had created. He could see that water had spilt from the bathtub, the ceramic floor gaining a growing puddle on its surface. Inside the tub, however, there was no movement from a sentient Creature. Aziraphale approached, hardly worried about how his shoes and clothes were getting wet. He knelt at the side of the tub, frozen as he took the image in.

Crowley was under the surface of the water, shoulder-length hair flowing as seaweed would. There was a cloudiness to the water that was hardly noticeable. No bubbles came up through the water, so the demon was not breathing. No, the demon appeared to be quite in a deep sleep, not responding when Aziraphale had taken off his long-sleeved coat, rolled up his sleeves, and plunged his hands into the hot water and shook her shoulders. To Aziraphale's memory, he had never seen Crowley be submerged in such a way. He had also never seen Crowley in such a deep sleep. Perhaps it was the water...

Crowley let out a gasp when Aziraphale brought her head above the surface of the water, but her eyes didn't open. Her body was a bright rose that demanded attention, her cheeks red from the heat. With a bit of effort, and a pick-up in how his heart beat, Aziraphale pulled Crowley from the bathtub. He cradled her to his chest, trying to cool her body down now that she was out of the tub. The faucet turned off at his silent command.

"Crowley, wake up, my dear. Wake up..." Aziraphale didn't let any other prayers past his lips. Nothing that would pass his lips would hurt the fragile Creature that currently laid in her arms. He wiped at Crowley's face, hoping that his arms shaking her shoulders, her body would wake her.

After another unsuccessful attempt at waking her, Aziraphale laid her in the puddle and stood to get to the sink. A washcloth, gathering moisture from the steam, laid on the counter. A quick run under cold water, and soon Aziraphale was patting down the demon, trying to cool her down.

For a while, there was nothing. Crowley didn't even shiver. Aziraphale cursed - _cursed!_ \- under his breath, but a few more attempts of this cooling method eventually made golden eyes look up at him. Crowley's bright eyes stared up at Aziraphale, not knowing what to focus on.

"Sssssira..." Crowley hissed, mouth lax but not so mobile. Fangs that came out made it difficult to speak, and venom was already coming out in droplets from them. Aziraphale hushed her, trying to soothe the lovely Creature in his care. She looked so...

"Sssira... fell... Azzz..." Crowley reached up, touching Aziraphale's hand that was dragging the cold piece of terrycloth across her abdomen. The Angel held still, waiting for what the Demon would do. "Sssso... Hot."

"It's all right, Crowley. It's all right..." Aziraphale continued to wipe her down, even as she became more mobile.

"No. Wanna... Fuck, I can't... How?"

"I think you fell asleep, Crowley."

She looked up at Aziraphale with an expression that said disbelief, but her eyes were growing wet with what could be described as tears. Crowley sat up slowly, resting against Aziraphale's chest. Her body exuded heat, her body flushing pink. She closed her eyes, groaning.

"Dizzy."

"Perhaps we should get you to your bed."

"Yeah." Her fangs slowly disappeared, almost gone completely by the time that Aziraphale laid her on her bed. He arranged a pillow under her head and another so that she was propped up somewhat. She held onto his shirt, starting to shiver. "No..."

"What, Crowley?"

"Don't... Don't move. Stay."

Aziraphale sighed, taking off his coat and setting it on the bedside table. He grabbed at one of the bed-sheets, one thin enough to keep Crowley covered but to not overheat her again. In the bathroom, he grabbed a large, fluffy towel. He also soaked a few more washcloths, wringing them out as to not have them dripping as he took everything to Crowley's bed.

"Crowley-"

"Sssstay!" Crowley hissed, eyes blown into a dazed state. She reached up, digging her black talons into his shirt. Her fangs insisted that they remain, however small they were now. Aziraphale bit back a noise of pain, trying to stay calm as Crowley readjusted her grip, her claws sinking deeper into his arm. The curve of the talons made it difficult to move away. Aziraphale's struggles only made Crowley readjust and hold onto him more firmly, hissing at him. "You'll ssstay here."

"Crowley- Ah! Let go of me," Aziraphale urged, trying to keep himself contained as he distanced his mind from the pain. He panted as Crowley pulled him forward, finally making the Angel land on top of her. Aziraphale found himself in wide coils of snake, rolling over him and wrapping around him to keep him in place. The heat from the snake was radiating onto him, making the Angel wick perspiration off through a minute miracle in only seconds.

Aziraphale huffed. Thankfully, Crowley wasn't constricting around him. He'd seen her tear other Creatures apart, squeezing them and moving her coils to rip off limbs. Fangs would bury themselves in thick muscle, venom causing an instant death. It was almost merciful, how Crowley killed, but it horrified Aziraphale all the same. Looking at the strong coils sliding over him, Aziraphale thought back to a day when he had seen Crowley with a strange, large shape in her belly. Crowley had stayed in the shade, hidden by bushes, when Aziraphale came upon her. Apparently, a human had made a trespass of some type on Crowley's sensibilities; for that, the human had earned a punishment that had Crowley licking at Aziraphale's fingers, curious but sated, when the Angel came upon her. No matter how Aziraphale had pressed, Crowley would not divulge what had occurred. No whispers to the mind, nor words when Crowley came back to his more familiar Corporation, were given to explain why Crowley had killed someone. All she gave him when it was over was a coy kiss on Aziraphale's cheek, her still-reptilian tongue tracing the cut of Aziraphale's jaw.

Soon, Crowley's long body stopped turning, settling on Aziraphale's body. The covers were damp, something that made Aziraphale wrinkle his nose. He was disconcerted by Crowley's actions, even more so when Crowley brought her head close, licking at his cheek.

" _Sssso tired..._ " Crowley whispered.

"What's wrong, my dear? Did something happen?"

" _... Ssslept... Nightmare... I felt... like I wasss Falling..._ "

Aziraphale let out a small exhale, almost a sigh. Crowley hated discussing any part of her Fall, and here she volunteered it. Her nightmare must have truly frightened her.

"It's all right, Crowley. You're not Falling."

" _I was ssstuck. I couldn't... My wingsss?_ "

"Crowley, calm down. You're a serpent right now. Look, my dear, look at yourself."

Crowley bumped her snoot against his neck, rubbing at his skin with her scales. " _I know... I just- the pain from my wingsss..._ "

Aziraphale managed to wriggle out a hand from Crowley's coils. He raised his hand to pet at her smooth head. He knew that she couldn't cry like this, nor could she close her eyes. He knew that looking at her would only show him bright golden eyes that would sink into his consciousness if he dared to give her a chance.

" _My wings, Aziraphale. What happened? Where... Where are we?_ "

Aziraphale sighed. "What do you remember, Crowley?"

" _Who? Aziraphale?_ " Crowley rubbed against Aziraphale's neck again. The Angel reached up, petting her nose. He felt something dry on his hand, coming away on his fingers. He held it to his eyes, a patch of dry scales in his palm.

"Crowley, my dear, you're shedding." Aziraphale began to rub at the serpent's skin where he could reach, relaxing when the coils around him loosened. Crowley flicked her tongue wildly, letting out a satisfied groan.

" _Sssso... Feelsss good..._ "

"I'm glad, my dear." Aziraphale was also glad that this was what Crowley had warned him about only yesterday. Seeing the serpent was familiar, and she was starting to calm as the skin was removed from her body, her new beautiful scales underneath making themselves known. They looked of onyx or hematite, the red scales of her belly fiery and fierce.

After what seemed to be hours (or minutes), Aziraphale let out a tense breath as the snake became Tovia Ashtoreth, body and breasts soft where the bones of her body decided that they would not make their presence prominent.

Then Tovia became Crowley.

"Angel?" Crowley's pupils were wide and beautiful, darker than the night sky. The yellow-gold around them sparkled in the twilight smudge of light that managed to come in through the bedroom window.

Aziraphale hugged Crowley close, burying one hand in the full thickness of her red hair and the other landing primly across, around her waist.

"Crowley, are you all right?"

"... You're here."

"Of course!" Aziraphale pressed his cheek against hers, hiding his eyes. "You were under the water, and I know that you are not always fond of swimming! Crowley, really! Submerging yourself like that, could damage your Corporation!"

The words could have been harsh, but Aziraphale was sincere and hurt.

Crowley pulled away, looking for the Principality's eyes. Blue and gold were caught in an equal gaze. After a few moments, Crowley leaned her forehead against that of Aziraphale, and pressed her tongue where full hair met his face.

Aziraphale pushed at Crowley, trying to escape, but even he knew that if he fought, the Serpent from the Garden of Eden would be a close-to-invincible adversary. Crowley had always been able to vex the Angel with powerful urges and charms that made Aziraphale use more of his powers to sometimes keep up.

"No!" Crowley pushed Aziraphale, pressed Aziraphale down. If they had been more aware, it would look like Crowley was attempting some form of copulation with Aziraphale. Crowley growled, fanged still apparent and now exposed. Her talons were trying to dig again into Aziraphale's arm, her eyes looking around frenzied as her chest heaved for air that she didn't need. There was only one time before that Crowley had appeared so...

When she had killed... When she had devoured that man-

"Crowley!" Aziraphale pushed with his Light, grimacing as Crowley cried out. Aziraphale had made sure that it was truly hidden, his Light, but it could have blinded Crowley for a while. 

Sure enough, Aziraphale was left with a lovely Demon, curling around herself. She was hissing, muttering.

Aziraphale bit his lip, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Crowley, it's all right."

"You're not..." Crowley sat up, slowly. Aziraphale winced at the marks that he had Created. Scalding marks branched out from the initial mark over Crowley's ribs. A filigree of wounded skin was exposed, and Aziraphale only prayed that the Almighty would forgive him. He hoped Crowley would, too.

"Crowley-"

"You're not him!" Crowley closed her eyes, covering her face and shuddering. "You're not!"

Aziraphale reached out, slightly shaky.

"Who, my dear?"

Crowley shook her head, something like a sob escaping her throat. It seemed too broken to be something else. She continued to mutter, pulling at her blankets to hide under them.

"All right, Crowley," Aziraphale cooed, getting off of the bed and tucking her under her blankets. Crowley tried not to let Aziraphale touch her, to which Aziraphale responded by giving a wry smile. "Just rest, Crowley. You're not well."

Crowley hissed again. Aziraphale looked over Crowley's eyes, surprised to see them wet. Fat teardrops rolled down Crowley's gaunt cheeks.

"My wings, Angel. My wings..!"

"My poor, wily, little serpent," the Angel murmured, sitting on the bed and holding her close again. Talons hidden and enough space to not have to affect the other in such a crude way as hurting each other, the Angel and Demon rested, Crowley crying over something that she didn't explain and Aziraphale mourning what he couldn't understand.

* * *

As an Archangel, Raphael was a Commander among Commanders. He was above the Principalities, who would command legions of Angels during any conflict, though Conflict was something not made in the first days of the Universe. He was above the Cherubim, the Virtues, the Thrones; even Metatron had to bend to the Archangels at times, with Lucifer being the one who had helped Raphael learn how to talk with the Metatron in the first place.

His Power was wide-reaching, and those that he had taught and nurtured into his teachings would be lost without him. With his staff in hand, he taught his pupils, changed the size and shapes of his plants and stars, and he was able to guide the new children of Mother - those children called Man and Woman - to new places in the Garden that he wanted to show them, to teach them about. 

Woman began to take Reeds from the sides of River to make baskets. Man began to memorise which plants could make sweet juice for him and Woman to drink, which plants bore good Fruit for them to eat, and he also took to Raphael teaching him how to sew, taking a strong antler that had come from a young buck that was becoming older already and making needles from it. With sewing, Woman was making shady places for them to sit, and Man was using the knowledge to weave and make platforms for them to play on.28

Raphael could see the Garden changing, but he also saw his siblings changing.

Lucifer could rarely be found. Gabriel had been becoming more strict on the lesser Angels, taking the messages that Mother had given him in the past to regulate the Angels' tasks and duties. Michael and Uriel had been focused on disciplining those that came out of line, either by sweetness or harshness respectively. Sandalphon was following Gabriel more often, rarely talking to the Metatron now; having the perfect copy of the Metatron's messages in his Light, Sandalphon could help Gabriel in regulation.

Raphael had mentioned this to Jegudiel, who had brushed him off, his bright wings ruffling. 

"We need to maintain order. Raphael, go back to your post." Jegudiel handed another weapon to his final students, the Powers. "I will be sending Aziraphale over to take his place at the Eastern Gate soon, but you need to lead your battalion. Now."

Jegudiel hadn't even looked at him, his gray and white wings calmly still behind him.

"But-"

"Go. Now."

Raphael stepped away, keeping his gaze down but shivering when he saw the whip at Jegudiel's side, sitting on his belt. He spread his dark wings and flew away from the Armoury.

He didn't need to worry about this; Aziraphale had been placed at the Eastern Gate of Eden, and soon his Corporation would join his Light and be complete. He would be under Raphael's watch again, with no-one to be so strict and... Raphael dared to think "hurtful".

"Oh, Raphael."

The youngest Archangel turned back to Jegudiel, who was flying close. Raphael moved to speak, but Jegudiel only stared him down again.

"Leave Samael to Lucifer. He is not your student."

Raphael could feel his black feathers ruffle in response to such a tone. He was spoken to like a New-Creature, like the Man or Woman. "He wants to spend time with me. He was given orders to Create. Isn't that all right that he is with me?"

"No. It is not." Jegudiel turned to the Thrones he was caring for, making sure no feather was out of place and no eye was wayward. "I know what She wants - order and discipline - and you should follow that."

Raphael bit at his lip, nodding and turning away. He could hear the quiet rustle of feathers, Jegudiel turning to go back to his post, but Raphael turned before he was alone again.

"Why?"

Jegudiel turned, and Raphael could see something burning in his eyes.

"You need not know the reason."

"Why not?"

Jegudiel came close, and Raphael could feel a chill settle into the bones of his Corporation, a Fear.

"You will not know the reason, Raphael, because you do not need to know it for your Purpose." Jegudiel spread his round wings, the ones that Raphael recognised as belonging to the Serpent-Eater Bird in the Garden. The Fear in his bones, in Raphael's Light, became something else - a Desire to fly away!

Raphael had another Desire, however... He had a Wonder.

"Samael is helping in the Garden, Jegudiel, the Garden that I tend to!"

"He is to follow Lucifer! The Light-Bringer! That has nothing to do with the Garden!"

"Didi," Raphael urged, "Samael has been tasked with Creating in the Garden! He could not have done so without Her wish for him to do so."

Jegudiel's face bloomed into a red, one that Raphael knew was something deep and frustrating. It no longer stayed in his eyes.

Their wings out, black against white and gray, the two Archangels held themselves in the Sky.

"Fine." Jegudiel turned away, flying back to his post.

Raphael let his wings relax, sighing as he turned and began to spiral downward in a controlled fall towards the Garden.

This was not what Mother had wanted. She had wanted them to be happy, to enjoy each other's company...

To love.

Raphael stopped at the base of Samael's Tree. It was a lovely Creation. Its fruit was not yet ripe, but Raphael couldn't wait to see it. He thought to Aziraphale, whom he had not seen for what seemed too long to measure. Raphael held onto the bark of Samael's Tree, feeling the roughness of it under his fingers. It was powerful, something that he was proud of. Samael and Raphael had worked hard together, but it was truly due to Samael's efforts that it had become so grand. From its thick leaves and the fruit, Samael could be proud. However, Raphael had crafted its blossoms and its homeostasis. They were sweet and delicate, so much so that Raphael had taken one and put it in a transparent resin from one of the other trees. It was to be a gift for Aziraphale, and Samael was happy with that. 

Not long after the day that Raphael and Jegudiel had fought over duty, a new Angel appeared, and they were given unto Raphael for teaching. Samael had been there the day that Jegudiel came. Samael stared at the Light as Jegudiel and Raphael spoke.

"This one is Camael. Their Corporation will be complete soon," Jegudiel explained. "Teach well, and I hope that Camael will be a good student to you, Raphael."

"Thank you. How is Aziraphale?"

"They were following me, I thought." Jegudiel looked behind him, and sure enough, a Light was following, though entranced by all of the trees and plants.

"Raphael!" Aziraphale called, soon coming to float near his teacher's head. "Raphael, my Corporation is ready! Would you like to see it?"

Jegudiel left, leaving the four younger Angels to their devices.

Raphael gave Aziraphale a smile, even though the Angel had no eyes yet to see. "Aziraphale, your body's not you."

"But... How would you know it was me?"

"You know my Light, yes?"

"Yes."

Raphael let Camael go with Samael, with the warning that they were not too wander far from him. "Aziraphale, I could find your Light anywhere."

"You could?" Aziraphale sounded quite excited to hear that.

"Of course." Raphael invited Aziraphale to sit in his hands, and the Principality complied.

Their Lights were almost complementary, Raphael realised. Blue as Aziraphale's Light and gold as Raphael's eyes, eyes that Jegudiel had chosen because Jegudiel Created Raphael's Corporation in Raquia, the origin place of the youngest Archangel.

"Are you sure?"

Raphael quieted his voice down to a whisper, before he continued, "I will always know you, my Angel. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27: This did not count anything that Tovia would snack on while drinking alcohol, though this event was rare now - only when Mrs Dowling took the baby away overnight on some informal venture and the child could be bottle-fed.
> 
> 28: Perhaps Raphael's siblings did not think of this as something that would tear their hierarchy apart, Raphael's need and desire to teach and nurture. Lucifer's desire to lead them, to guide the design of the Almighty, and Lucifer giving in to that desire had been the first mistake that Raphael could see in his siblings.


End file.
